


Blue Neighborhood

by giwp



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mild Language, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content, Time Skips, mostly iwa who seems like a pushover but stay tuned, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-05-01 10:05:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5201795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giwp/pseuds/giwp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As long as Oikawa was happy, Iwaizumi was ready to go along with whatever ridiculous scheme Oikawa had planned for them. </p><p>Iwaizumi and Oikawa have a 'special' relationship and when Oikawa gets scouted to become a popstar shit blows up in their face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The tags currently reflect this chapter's contents but I have an outline set aside for things that I want to happen in this fic. It'll essentially mirror the Blue Neighborhood trilogy (ergo the title) but the ending is a toss up to how and when the next chapters play out. The tags will be updated at the appropriate times to give a forewarning to those that like the idea of reading a shitty popstar au. 
> 
> NOTE: This is my first Haikyuu!! fic but definitely check out my [SNK fics](http://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&work_search%5Bfandom_ids%5D%5B%5D=721553&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=0&commit=Sort+and+Filter&user_id=giwp)!
> 
> ENJOY!

“Come on Iwa-chan. It’s just one more booth and then we can have all the food that you want.”

“Oikawa…”

“I promise! I saw their signs at the entrance and I really wanna go see if they still have those little figurines you can put on your desks. I don’t want my dorm room to look like I’m a total bore of a person when there’s figurines of little chibi characters playing volleyball in this world! And I think I saw they were selling that alien shirt that matches those space socks I got last month and I really need those.”

Iwaizumi tries to keep the thought of college out of his head as he laughs sarcastically behind the retreating figure ahead of him. “You do know how nerdy you sound right now, right?”

“Oh shush, Iwa-chan, and help me figure out where they’re set up before the crowd gets even busier. The lunch rush is almost over and all the middle schoolers will be here soon.”

Iwaizumi flinches at the thought of being squished between a crowd of sweaty strangers breathing heavily and tiny rugrats beelining through the aisles of booths selling merchandise.

It wasn’t, in any form of the imagination, Iwaizumi’s idea to spend their first weekend off from volleyball practice since finals like this. He wouldn’t have even agreed to the trip down to Tokyo if it hadn’t been for Oikawa. It had taken a week’s worth of consistent begging and a solid four days of pouting from Oikawa for Iwaizumi to play along and consequentially agree to “maybe go along” to Oikawa’s trip. But the sudden arrival, that morning, of Oikawa in Iwaizumi’s own bedroom – specifically the underside of his blankets at the foot of his bed with far too cold hands – had gotten Iwaizumi up uncomfortably early at the crack of dawn with a slurry of movement as Oikawa leaped off and started packing a night bag for him.

They, or rather Oikawa, had planned to spend the night at one of the nearby hotels near the pavilion where the convention was held at. Iwaizumi has no idea where his best friend had managed to scrounge up the money for the room considering a majority of his funds were always being used for preening or lady purposes. But when they’d stepped off the train and walked into the expansive space of the hotel lobby to drop off their bags, Iwaizumi had shut his mouth to any questions as quickly as Oikawa had stopped listening when Iwaizumi had first brought up his concerns.

Oikawa had managed to keep up a part-time job at the recreation center in town over the last month and however he decided to spend his paychecks wasn’t any of Iwaizumi’s concern.

As long as Oikawa was happy, Iwaizumi was ready to go along with whatever ridiculous scheme Oikawa had planned for them.

But this is starting to get a little bit tiring. Iwaizumi keeps as close as he possibly can as Oikawa slip and slides his way through the growing crowd. He loses sight of the taller boy a couple time but soon finds his face searching frantically back for Iwaizumi. A warm feeling surges through him every time he watches Oikawa’s eyes lighten when he finds Iwaizumi being surrounded by a huddled group of twelve year olds screaming about some new trading card set. There’s a softness behind those large brown eyes and small smile that Iwaizumi huffs away as he pushes through the clumps of bodies in front of him with apologies spilling out of his mouth.

Whatever happened to manners and personal space?

Iwaizumi soon reaches Oikawa’s side but as soon as his feet come up to accompany the sure steps Oikawa has always been known for, they seem to run off in front of him.

“Iwa-chan! Quit getting lost it’s making getting there harder.”

“Well why don’t you stop running off ahead of me? Or, even better idea, you could just go on ahead and I’ll come and find you later when you’re done,” Iwaizumi responds. He knows he’s huffing and acting just as much as a child as Oikawa but he really doesn’t care over the dull throbbing he’s starting to feel in his temple. He starts searching around the room for a notable place to sit his ass down while Oikawa runs around with his backpack still strapped to his back. All he can see for yards on end are bodies scooting and shuffling through different stalls and lingering at the more popular booths to see what the ruckus is all about. None of it looks very appealing to Iwaizumi and without an empty space in sight, he huffs loudly.

Oikawa clicks his tooth and crosses his arms over his chest. They’ve stopped in the middle of the walkway, groups of shoppers and excited kids filtering around the small space Oikawa has commanded in the narrow path. Iwaizumi can feel the glances being shot at them as Oikawa refuses to move and keeps staring at Iwaizumi. His mouth falls into a small pout as he huffs again and shifts his feet to overemphasize that he isn’t going anywhere without Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi groans. He rubs the palms of his hands into his eyes to close out the harsh lights of the convention hall and the stares that seem to grow deeper and harsher as they stay standing in the middle of the goddamn walkway. Fucking Oikawa.

“Fine. Let’s just go and find this booth of your and then let’s get some food because my head is seriously about to kill you.”

Oikawa smiles to himself and bounces on his heels as he turns back around to walk in the direction they were headed in before. He waits a minute, a couple of steps ahead of Iwaizumi, until he sees his best friend following close behind. “Uh. Don’t you mean it’s ‘killing you’?”

Iwaizumi sidles up to Oikawa’s side and for once the latter doesn’t make to move on ahead of Iwaizumi. Their feet practically synchronize as they brush their way through the crowd. “No I’m pretty sure this headache is capable of killing you – not me.”

Oikawa turns to face Iwaizumi with a concerned look that falls flat when he notices the small smile playing on Iwaizumi’s face. “You asshole! Don’t be so rude to the person that’s paying for your sleeping arrangements.”

Iwaizumi chuckles which garners a reaction from Oikawa who bristles but relaxes back at Iwaizumi’s side, letting the shorter joke at his expense. “Yeah but I still have to buy my own food when I could be getting it for free at my own house.”

“True. But then you wouldn’t be here accompanying me and having the time of your life.”

“I’ll let you know when anything you’ve just said rings true, Shittykawa.”

“Well you _better_ tell me. A happy Iwa-chan is the best kind of Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t respond for a while – his mind wandering off as he watches the people shuffling through booths and bodies. He never really does know how to respond when Oikawa gets even the slightest bit emotional. The two have known each other since they were just little kids – at the very start of potty training – but the past few months have been…tense. And it wasn’t even the good kind of nerves that left Iwaizumi on his toes and present in the moment. This was an entirely different feeling and he hated himself most of the time for how much it’d come to affect his emotions.  

Iwaizumi could never find the right name for whatever was between him and Oikawa other than that it was annoying when the occasion came up.  After their first match with Karasuno when Oikawa and Kageyama had reunited on the court, there had been an acidity to Oikawa’s personality. It was their final year in the high school circuits after all and Oikawa had always promised to become the best no matter what it took. With Kageyama and his little red-headed friend as possible contenders to becoming the best thing Japan’s seen in volleyball in ages, Oikawa had started to become irritable during practices.

And an electrified Oikawa always led to an influx of impulsive behaviors.

There was a lot of empty space in the kitchen cabinets at Oikawa’s place where ceramic mugs and glass cups once sat. A decent-sized dent even lived on the wall that Iwaizumi’s bed sat against from when Oikawa had insisted on sleeping over after a rather difficult afternoon practice recently led by their kouhais. Bruises would sometimes pop up overnight on Oikawa’s body from god knows what. And then there were the times when the pads of fingers tips that weren’t his own scattered themselves along Iwaizumi’s wrists. Little remembrance from an occasion that was never brought up once the moment had passed.

It was a frustration that was palpable at times and Oikawa didn’t know how to handle _it_ or himself. The two opposite sides of his rampages where Oikawa either went on a violent streak or constantly needed the attention and contact that had both him and Iwaizumi screaming in their heads.  

It wasn’t like Iwaizumi hated it. He took it as it came whether it was catching a multitude of Oikawa’s rouge punches or being slammed into the locker room walls and feeling hands gripping tight along his wrists while Oikawa yelled obscenities into the side of his head as his body slid closer to Iwaizumi’s.

They never talked about any of Oikawa’s episodes but it always left Iwaizumi with a bad taste in his mouth. He needed to talk to Oikawa about it.

They were young and sometimes frustrations gathered together and there were different ways the mind and body needed to let it go. Iwaizumi understood the theory behind it but it didn’t mean he understood why Oikawa always chose to direct it in his direction.

Why did Oikawa always look for Iwaizumi? And why the hell was Iwaizumi always willing to be the punching bag?

There had always been a multitude of girls ready to take the space next to Oikawa. Since they were in middle school when Oikawa had first started to grow into the size of his big head, girls had been lining up to catch a whiff of his smelly body wash but Oikawa never kept that space filled for very long. Most of his time had been spent worrying over volleyball and sometimes schoolwork and once even those things had started to seem suffocating, it was as though Oikawa had decided to revert back to the basics of what he wanted.

And most of the time, that involved Iwaizumi attempting to comfort or helping to forget even for just ten minutes. It grated on Iwaizumi’s patience how Oikawa seemed to walk away from everything like it didn’t bother him. Like it didn’t matter that he was beginning to abuse Iwaizumi’s friendship but they both knew that it wasn’t even that. It couldn’t be abuse when Iwaizumi was always willing there to help Oikawa.

 _He’s not using me_ was a common thought in recent days but Iwaizumi would never be able to explain why he felt that way.

But it didn’t mean the feeling didn’t make an appearance every chance Oikawa got close enough.

Iwaizumi’s shaken out of his thoughts as he realizes the amount of noise and occasional bumping into complete strangers has decreased to practically nothing.

They soon find themselves to a more remote section of the convention room floor. There aren’t many booths set up that look interesting enough to catch the attention of the younger students or the interest of the adults roaming around. Most of them look like they’re set up solely to pass out cheap pamphlets and broken pens.

“Um. Is there a reason we’re in this career fair section of the building?” Iwaizumi asks quietly. He doesn’t want to offend any of the scary-looking adults in the booths and the lack of people crowding the walkway means it would be way too easy for one of them to overhear them speaking.

“The map said that the booth is somewhere on this side of the building,” Oikawa is spinning in circles where he’s standing trying to find a sign to the booth he’s searching for as his voice quietens into a cut whisper. He frowns when he doesn’t find what he wants and turns back to face Iwaizumi, his arms crossed over his chest. Again.

He’s just about to say something and Iwaizumi is preparing himself for the long-winded complaints he’s going to have to hear while they go searching on the other side of the room when they’re both interrupted in their musings by a heavy, deep voice.

“Hi. I’m guessing the two of you are lost?” the stranger asks the pair. Iwaizumi doesn’t know what to think about the figure standing in front of him. The voice coming out of this guy’s mouth definitely doesn’t match the flamboyant bowtie wrapped around his neck. A neck that actually stands nearly a foot from Iwaizumi’s. He could probably rival Hinata-kun’s height.

Oikawa is the first to recover from the sudden appearance of Mr. Bowtie and – are those pink socks under the hems of his slacks? Iwaizumi is so confused as he watches the unnerving smile on Bowtie’s face steadily get wider as they stare at each other silently. Or rather, as Bowtie stares at Oikawa and ignores Iwaizumi’s presence.  

“Can we help you with anything, sir?”

Iwaizumi bites back a smirk as Oikawa tries and fails, in his opinion, to hide the fact that the interruption is annoying the crap out of him.

The guy smiles back – unknowing to Oikawa’s sarcasm. “Actually I wanted to speak to you about an opportunity. You see, I’m from an agency based out here in Tokyo and seeing as you look like someone that’s come from a distance, I’m sure you’ve never been approached by scouts.”

Oikawa frowns at the guy while Iwaizumi stays quiet next to him, trying to pick out what this guy could possibly trying to offer Oikawa. He tries not to take offense to the fact that the guy had completely glazed over Iwaizumi’s existence but there’s a bitterness in him bubbling as he watches the strange man dig through a folder and pull out a business card.

“For your information, I’ve been scouted by a number of universities for volleyball so if you’ll excuse us, we really don’t need to be wasting time when there are other booths to look at.”

The guy seems to deflate just as Oikawa turns around and Iwaizumi watches him flail his hands about. “Wa-wait! Wait wait wait!! I’m sorry if I sound like a pushover or a douchebag or something. My name is Yamasaki Kuniyuki. I’m actually from Bayside Agency. We’re a really small group but we’ve come out here trying to find potential clients.”

The two of them squint their eyes at the guy. He doesn’t seem like someone that could be planning a kidnapping or be in cahoots with the yakuza so Iwaizumi doesn’t get too guarded as they stop to turn and face him. “An agency? What kind of clients are you looking for?”

The man seems to finally realize that Iwaizumi’s been standing and listening to them talk without his involvement. He blushes under Iwaizumi’s stare and mutters to himself, “god I really hate doing these kinds of things.”

Oikawa shoots a look over at Iwaizumi who shrugs in response. They really should be heading out to lunch soon before the path to the main entrance gets overly crowded. “Right…so if you’ll excuse us, mister. We really have to go.”

The pair turn to walk away but halt as a blur of colorful fabric and squeaky shoes cross their path. The guy – Yamasaki – stares at Oikawa, card in his shaking hands as he bows forward. Oikawa looks taken aback but doesn’t get a word out before he’s interrupted. “I would like to offer you a personal interview for a placement in our talent scouting program. I overheard you speaking and believe that your voice could be put to good use in the performance world if you will allow our company to guide you. You have the face meant for magazines and the build to create a mass following in the media. You would be an amazing asset for Bayside and I would appreciate it if you took my card and decide your options after graduation properly with all your options laid in front of you.”

“Um…”

“Please. Just consider the option of coming to Tokyo and working with us.”

Oikawa wavers next to Iwaizumi. His hands are tensing up at his side. Iwaizumi knows that they’re itching to grab a hold of the business card but he keeps quiet; letting Oikawa make the decision himself.

It’s a moment of silence before Oikawa finally reaches up and accepts the card. Yamasaki stands up straight, again – his back rigid as he smiles brilliantly at Oikawa. Again with the creepy smiling.  

“Thanks for the offer,” Oikawa says, his eyes flittering across the small card. There isn’t much written on it except Yamasaki’s name and his position as “Talent Scout” with Bayside. Oikawa hesitates for a second, his voice wavering as he responds. “I’ll make sure to check it out.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much… um-” Yamasaki pauses, seemingly waiting for a name. Iwaizumi is ready to pull Oikawa back, keep him from giving this random stranger they’d just met in a new city his name, but he’s too late and too out of the conversation to try to make another appearance between Oikawa and something different.

“Oikawa. Oikawa Tooru.”

“Oikawa-san. Thank you for your consideration. I hope to hear from you very soon.” The man practically runs off in the other direction and leaves the pair of boys blinking in his wake.

Iwaizumi bristles as a sudden chill runs through his veins. “What the hell even was that?”

Oikawa stares down at the business card, his eyebrows furrowed in thought as his teeth play with his bottom lip. Iwaizumi tries not to stare with a hostile look on his face but there’s a certain tempo of hesitation in Oikawa’s walking as they start making their way back to the center of the convention center.

“You’re not actually thinking about calling that guy, are you? He seemed kinda creepy.”

Oikawa doesn’t react for a second, his eyes still focused on the card but a near accident with a stall selling thousands of dollars worth of glass figurines cracks his surface. “Sorry. What were you saying Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi pauses, his feet stopping as he assesses Oikawa’s form that stops a couple of feet ahead. He’s looking back at Iwaizumi with a confusing look on his face that Iwaizumi can’t figure out. “You’re considering it.” He doesn’t so much as ask than comments. Oikawa is actually considering the idea of moving out to Tokyo to pursue a career that the guy hadn’t even been clear about in explaining.

It wasn’t like they’d even planned to follow each other after high school. Oikawa was set to go to a university near his sister’s place but outside of Tokyo while Iwaizumi was to attend the university near home. They had their own plans for college and for their future but a career in entertainment was never something either of them had ever considered for Oikawa. He was the flashy-type but that didn’t mean he had an ounce of talent with singing. Right?

“Can you even sing? What if they make you sing those cheesy pop songs? They’re not going to let you eat milk bread every single day, Oikawa.”

Oikawa huffs indignantly. “It’s just an option Iwa-chan. Yamasaki-san said I could possibly have the potential and what’s wrong with using my potential for a good cause.”

“Attracting girls with that disgusting smile isn’t a _good cause_ , Assikawa.”

“It is for the ladies, Hajime!”

“Quit calling me by my first name!”

“We’ve known each other since diapers, you asshead. Quit being rude. At least let _me_ call you Hajime.”

Iwaizumi groans into the palms of his hands and starts walking back toward the entrance. “You’re changing the topic.”

Oikawa smirks at his side; his left hand coming up to frame his face with a peace sign as he grins so wide his eyes close involuntarily. His other arm links into Iwaizumi’s arm, their elbows knocking together for a second until they seem to click into place together. “And you’re being inconsiderate. Why are you being so quick to shut down my options?”

Iwaizumi looks down as Oikawa takes the reins and leads them out of the space. “I’m not doing anything like that, Oikawa.”

Oikawa must get the hint of concern from Iwaizumi because he soon wraps himself around Iwaizumi once they’ve hit the open air outside the building. They’re so uncomfortably close that Iwaizumi doesn’t have much room to squeeze an arm out to remove Oikawa from his side. So he leaves it as it is; instead, he clings to the warmth as the season changes around them. “You don’t need to be so concerned about me anymore, Iwa-chan. I can take care of myself.”

Iwaizumi snorts to which Oikawa lands a smack on his bicep. “I’m being serious. You don’t need to worry.”

“Oh and you want me to believe that you’ve got a handle on all of this once you decide what you’re going to do?” Iwaizumi laughs to himself as Oikawa pouts and drags him towards the central part of downtown Tokyo. He calms for a second, watching the bits of emotion and wonder flitter across Oikawa’s face as they walk past the skyscrapers surrounding them. The glass walls around them seem to reflect the tiniest bits of light in the afternoon sunlight and somehow find themselves trapped inside the warm browns of Oikawa’s eyes. The pressure of Oikawa’s grip on his arm is reassuring to Iwaizumi as he walks blindly alongside his best friend, uncaring to whatever might end up in his path.

Iwaizumi clears his throat as he catches himself thinking too hard. Don’t make this weird.

Oikawa has paused to ask a stranger on the street directions to a cheap place to eat and with his back momentarily turned to Iwaizumi, the latter finds himself wondering out loud. “I’m always going to worry,” he whispers.

Yup. Good job at not making this weird.

He keeps his eyes averted as Oikawa says his thanks to the lady that seems to have a compulsive staring problem. Her eyes don’t leave the pair of them as they walk arm-in-arm down the street in the direction she’d pointed in. Iwaizumi hadn’t heard a word of their conversation; his mind was having its own difficulties focusing on the moment at hand and the fact he’s been overexposed to so much since 5 AM was helping in any sort of way. But it also means Oikawa hadn’t heard his small confession which Iwaizumi is thankful for.

They walk in comfortable silence towards a less-populated area of the busy streets. The number of people per square foot has greatly decreased and Iwaizumi feels like he can finally breathe properly.

He feels Oikawa do the same as he releases his hold on Iwaizumi’s arm long enough to run up ahead and open the door of some family restaurant that looks decent enough for a proper lunch.

Iwaizumi squeezes his way through the doorway as Oikawa rushes him forward and into the small waiting lobby where a waitress stands to take their number.

Oikawa comes up to stand next to him, his entire body leaning in as his hands reach back up to lock onto Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi thinks little of it as they stand around waiting to be noticed by the small girl attempting to gather way too many menus at once. She scurries away with an apology and a promise to be right back.

They curse to themselves that there aren’t any seats available to just rest for a second but they carry on standing in the middle of the small space as they wait to be seated.

Iwaizumi bristles for a second when he feels the pressure of Oikawa’s head on his shoulders. He doesn’t lean away from the touch, though; instead, he takes in the moment and shifts to where he knows Oikawa would be more comfortable.

They both stand there, knowing that they’re relationship is probably being put to a multitude of questions by the number of people around them and in the dining hall visible from where they stand, but they ignore any looks being passed their way and stay still in the calm. A few moments of silence passes again and Iwaizumi realizes that Oikawa’s been quiet for far too long to be normal.

He lets it go for the time being. Leaves it alone for something to worry about once it’s progressed long enough. _He’s probably thinking about that weird guy that wants to offer him a job_ , Iwaizumi assumes.

“Iwaizumi.” It’s a quiet whisper in the quiet din of clinking utensils and small talk around them.

“Hm?” He doesn’t shift, his eyes staying focused on the far wall where there’s some kind of painting of a horse hanging.

A long pause comes in between them and Iwaizumi is about to shift to question Oikawa on the sudden need for silence when he hears the smallest of whispers.

“I know.”

Iwaizumi can feel the heat rising to his face. He knows exactly what Oikawa is talking about and he curses himself for assuming he hadn’t heard him mutter to himself. “Oh.”

“I wanna see what happens.”

There’s a spark between them and it’s in these moments where explanations aren’t necessarily needed anymore. Iwaizumi knows exactly what’s on Oikawa’s mind. His eyes don’t leave the painting as Oikawa shifts to look at Iwaizumi. He can feel the heated gaze on his face, but he can’t get himself to look over at brown eyes closed away from the sunlight and cityscape.

“Okay.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi realizes something and it's a process trying to figure out how to deal with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcoming Kageyama and Hinata angst

“I mean I can’t really say anything to those people. They’d probably try to blackball me if I even suggested the idea of leaving them.”

Iwaizumi groans into the receiver. He’s been on the phone listening to Oikawa bitch and moan about his week for nearly two hours now and the fact that it’s been a long and stressful day in classes doesn’t help his mood.

It’s been nearly three years since Oikawa had first been approached by Yamasaki and where they are now is definitely different than what they had ever expected back in high school. They’ve grown to adjust to the distance between them; a separation that would have been the same if Oikawa had chosen to attend college with the added factor that the latter rarely had the time to call or contact Iwaizumi until the afterhours with a thousand and one things on his mind.

Oikawa could speak for hours on end and if it weren’t for how exhausted he sounded over the line, Iwaizumi doesn’t doubt that their conversations could last until the morning and Oikawa wouldn’t have blinked an eye to the sounds of Iwaizumi snoring.

The topics that the covered ranged from the entirely mundane to the “please end me before I take a train there to end you”. There was always the hot gossip that always flittered through the tabloids that Oikawa couldn’t wait to dish out and Iwaizumi had the patience to tune out completely. I mean it’s not like Iwaizumi didn’t care about the people that Oikawa was being forced to socialize with. It’s just… Iwaizumi didn’t really need to know the petty drama of who wore what and why it had pissed off some other body Iwaizumi didn’t care about.

And then there were the stories and complaints that never stopped from life in the studio. Oikawa’s been in the process of finally recording an album after months of busting his ass around to small town gigs with the Bayside name as his only money grabbing feature. Iwaizumi had no idea what even kept the audiences coming until a few months ago when Oikawa had managed to sneak away and video call Iwaizumi to show him a rough cut of one of his rehearsals.

He actually didn’t sound too bad. All those loud instruments playing in the background really did Oikawa some favors. Unfortunately, his comment hadn’t played very well once he’d voiced it to the guy himself who insisted on spending the rest of the call pouting while still excitedly telling Iwaizumi about where they were getting ready to head to next.

But he was good. Surprisingly so and it made Iwaizumi feel like a proud dad.

“It’s a really busy lifestyle Iwa-chan. But you wouldn’t believe the places I’ve seen. Oh! And the food is possibly to die for. I found this sushi place in downtown Tokyo and we really need to go whenever you get the chance to visit.” There’s a lull in the conversation as Iwaizumi hears Oikawa take a deep breath. “You’re gonna come soon, right?”

Iwaizumi just catches the end of Oikawa’s rant. He scowls at the nothing. “Visit?”

He can practically hear the pout on the other end of the call.  Oikawa groans into the phone as Iwaizumi leans the device away from his ear a bit. “Iwa-chaaaan. Weren’t you listening? When are you coming to visit? I feel like I haven’t seen you in a decade.”

“I saw you just last month, didn’t I?”

“That was FIVE months ago you idiot. It’s time for you to come and see me. I’m sure I can get Yamasaki to scrounge up a ticket to one of the gigs. Maybe even a backstage pass if you ask nicely.” Oikawa laughs into the receiver and Iwaizumi can’t help but smile back.

He sighs. He’s still on the couch of his apartment, the TV muted and bowl of noodles cooling as he listens to Oikawa laugh. Iwaizumi can feel himself relaxing, his body sinking into the couch as he gathers his feet up. “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t even have to ask for Yamasaki to push the passes into my face. He still feels bad about pushing out his most prized possession’s best friend to the side when we first met.”

“I doubt he’ll ever stop saying sorry.”

They both laugh for a couple of seconds. Iwaizumi hears the front door creak open and slam shut and chooses to ignore it; instead, reaching over and he grabs his bowl of food that’s gone far too cold to even be appetizing at this point. He listens to Oikawa shift on the other end. _Probably already in bed for tomorrow_ , he thinks.

Iwaizumi stands up and starts padding his way over to the microwave. There isn’t a reason a little bit of nuking would hurt the flavor. His shoulder holding up the phone to his ear, waiting for Oikawa to start another story of some sorts, Iwaizumi raises the bowl up to put it into the microwave when he feels a presence behind him.

He nearly drops the entire bowl but catches himself fast enough to jostle it into the microwave without spilling a drop. Unfortunately he does let out the tiniest of squeaks right into the speaker of the phone. “Holy fuck!” he yells.

“WHAT? WHAT HAPPENED?”

Iwaizumi can hear the worried complaints from Oikawa in his ear as he turns around to find a red ball of hair standing right behind him, staring at him with squinted eyes like Iwaizumi’s some kind of science experiment. He groans under the scrutiny and grabs a hold of his phone again and switches it to his other ear. “Sorry. Hinata is apparently visiting.” He pointedly stares back at the boy in front of him who doesn’t shift away but instead plants his feet firmly on the ground and crosses his arms. “Just being his usual weird self and deciding to sneak up behind innocent people.”

Seeing that Hinata’s definitely not moving anytime soon, Iwaizumi turns back and starts the microwave. No use in forgetting about eating something.

Oikawa’s muttering something on his end of the call and Iwaizumi can only presume it’s the usual banter.

“Why is Kageyama always bringing shrimpy-chan over?”

“I mean I don’t hate the kid but does he ever do anything other than practice volleyball with Kageyama?”

“What does he even see in Kageyama?”

“Don’t tell. Are those two dating? I’m gonna have to see it to believe it, Iwa-chan?”

“Shrimpy-chan deserves better.”

Iwaizumi cuts Oikawa off before his ranting can get anymore volatile and with Shrim-Hinata still standing and staring behind him, maybe focusing on one thing at a time would be best. “Hey, Oikawa. I should probably hang up now. You have to get to sleep for tomorrow and I should get back to writing that essay before it gets late.”

There’s a silence and Iwaizumi worries that the line has gone dead prematurely but he listens close and over the hum of the microwave, he can hear Oikawa breathing. Steadily. “O-oh. Right. You’re right. It is getting pretty late.”

There’s a second pause as Iwaizumi waits for a “good night” or even a “nighty night Iwa-chan” but he doesn’t get anything like that.

“Will you come soon?”

Iwaizumi stands stock still. Hinata, at some point has shifted over to standing near the fridge where he’s shuffling around the contents inside of it. Probably looking for one of the curry buns he’d left the last time he was here. Iwaizumi knows that he’s listening. Expecting Iwaizumi to say something that he can grill him about later but he’s tired and hungry and there’s just too much happening for him to think straight right now.

The microwave beeps to signal it’s done heating up his noodles and Iwaizumi sighs, his free hand gripping onto the edge of the countertop where he stares into the cheap designs.

“I’ll try my best, Oikawa.”

He can feel the sigh that Oikawa releases. It’s comforting but that same anxiousness he’d felt during his final year in high school fills his chest up now and it feels heavier and thicker. Like it’s unwilling to leave Iwaizumi now that it’s back after such a long break.

“Thanks Iwa-chan.”

***

The second they both hang up and Iwaizumi moves to put his phone into his pocket, Hinata is on him like a leopard on dinner. He leans in close to Iwaizumi, his arms folded behind his back as he flutters his eyelashes obnoxiously. His eyes calculating and never leaving his face.

“Soooo. What exactly are you going to try your best at, Iwaizumi-san?”

For all that Hinata looks like an innocent little child, Iwaizumi in the past year has grown to know that he’s a demon when it comes to finding out the details of Iwaizumi’s life.

Once Kageyama and Hinata had graduated from high school and the former had found himself needing a place to stay closer during his days at university, Iwaizumi had opened his doors and rental agreement for Kageyama. He himself had moved out of his parents place by his second year at university but the appeal of having familiar faces around while he trudged through the semesters had blinded him to the terms and conditions.

One of them being the constant presence of Hinata Shouyo.

It wasn’t like Iwaizumi hated seeing Hinata around. It’s just-

The kid was a lot to handle when he trained himself onto a single thing. And currently it was the subject of Iwaizumi’s and Oikawa’s long-distance friendship.

“Was that the Great King on the phone just now? Did he say anything about me? I bet he probably complained about Kageyama living here again, huh?”

Grabbing his bowl of food from the microwave, Iwaizumi makes his way back to melt into the small couch of the shared living room space. Groaning as he bends down to set the hot bowl onto the coffee table for a second, Iwaizumi reaches back for the remote to turn the volume back up to drown out the sounds of Hinata running through the kitchen to find whatever he needed and running back into the living room behind him.

He feels more than watches Hinata plop down next to him – his feet sitting on the cushions and far too close for Iwaizumi’s sensitive nose to handle.

Without saying a word, he shoves the offending pair of limbs back onto the floor and isn’t surprised when Hinata takes the abuse and keeps on munching on the food in his hands, his eyes glancing at Iwaizumi every once in a while.

 _He’s looking for the right time to pounce again_.

“Yeah. It was Oikawa.”

Silence hangs between them; the only sounds coming from the television and Hinata’s strangely quiet chewing as Iwaizumi sits staring at the bowl of noodles in front of him. He can feel himself losing his appetite already and Hinata hasn’t even said anything to make him feel so volatile.

He cuts off his own thoughts before they can get him to impulsively vomit out his words. No need to repeat prior mistakes. “Shouldn’t you be with Kageyama or something?”

Iwaizumi reaches out to grab the bowl, already feeling better for trying to change the subject.

“He’s in the shower. Not really interested in watching him struggle to put on clothes.”

The bite he’d been bringing up to his face freezes midway as Iwaizumi turns to watch Hinata avert his eyes. Iwaizumi squints his eyes, a mirror of Hinata just a few minutes ago, as he tries to figure out why the other boy looks like he’s turning red. “What’s that supposed to mean, exactly.”

Hinata clears his throat, accidentally choking on a rather large bite of his curry bun as he does so. Iwaizumi waits patiently for him to continue as he finally gets some of his food in his mouth.

“Just-last time Kageyama was trying to get his clothes on really fast but I guess his body was still wet and he-well he ended up tripping over his pants and falling.”

“He fell?”

“Ye-yeah.”

“And you’re here because you don’t want him to fall again?”

Hinata’s pitch rises along with his body as he sits upright and tucks his feet under him on the couch. “If he got hurt because of something so stupid then he wouldn’t be able to play volleyball.”

“So you’re here because of volleyball?”

“Um. No?...”

There’s a pause as Hinata turns back to the television, his eyes glazing over as his mind rushes. Iwaizumi goes back to his food and after a particularly loud slurp of his noodles he sets the bowl down and claps off the nonexistent dust from the fabric of his pants. He turns his body to face Hinata who tenses up in his spot. He never did like it when Iwaizumi managed to turn the interrogations on him. Especially when there wasn’t anyone else in the room to help him out of the situation.

Iwaizumi felt the pity for the smaller guy but he lets the smirk play on his lips as he opens his mouth. “Kageyama fell on _you_ didn’t he?”

Hinata’s arms flap around like a true crow for a second as he opens and closes his mouth looking like a lost goldfish. Nothing comes out of his mouth and Iwaizumi takes it as a victory.

“I’m guessing he was still a little bit wet from the shower and definitely wasn’t wearing a shirt when he fell.”

Hinata grows into a dark blush; his cheeks such a deep red that it could rival the undertones of his hair as he stares down at his half-eaten curry bun.

Feeling that he’s done enough to keep Hinata quiet until Kageyama finally came out looking for his friend, Iwaizumi turns back to the television and resumes eating as if nothing’s happened. He can hear Hinata muttering to himself – reassurances that it wasn’t anything like that – but Iwaizumi can only think how familiar all of Hinata’s emotions feel. But he shakes himself from his thoughts as he watches the weather reports pop onto the screen.

All clear skies as they head into the week of final exams.

The sounds of Kageyama stumbling in his room and with his bedroom door has Hinata twitching next to Iwaizumi but he chooses to ignore it lest he gets a night full of resentment and payback for what any emotions he might’ve stirred up.

It wasn’t like the two of them were subtle about it. Kageyama very openly kept Hinata close to his side the second they’d both stepped outside of the high school gates. They hadn’t exactly followed each other to this specific university it just sort of happened.

Iwaizumi just had to wonder how the two of them had managed to get accepted into his university before thinking about their relationship.

But one thing was for certain. Hinata was holding back the biggest clump of feelings inside that tiny body of his and if Kageyama didn’t figure it out soon enough, there would soon be a problem that Iwaizumi was too tired to even considering dealing with.

The two of them looked good together and if how Kageyama would look at Hinata when he thought no one was watching was anything to go by, then Iwaizumi wasn’t worried at all about how they’d end up once things were in the open.

Unfortunately the same couldn’t be said for him.

As Kageyama comes into the living room, a towel wrapped around his neck and catching the small beads of water, Hinata turns around to watch his best friend pad over to the fridge and grab a bottle of water. He starts falling into telling him some story from one of his classes and Iwaizumi shuts out the noise around him and focuses on the news report.

Except he’s not really.

Iwaizumi can feel the room getting warm – comfortable – as Kageyama comes in and sits on the armrest right to Hinata’s form and half listens to him speak while playing with the lid of the bottle. The two on the sofa very much knows that even though it doesn’t seem like he’s listening, Kageyama’s soaking up everything Hinata has to say and Iwaizumi can’t help but feel uncomfortable at how well the two fit together.

It’s like they were meant to be at each other’s sides.

He feels his chest closing up, something tightening inside of him as he realizes that we wants the same. He wants that someone next to me and he can’t stop thinking that he knows exactly what he needs at his side…

They never did talk about. All those nights and minutes pulled away from their normal days spent forgetting about whatever troubled Oikawa at that moment had blown away with the wind the second graduation had passed and Oikawa had been stuffed into a rental car to be taken to his “new place” in Tokyo while he trained. The day that Iwaizumi had been hoping for – where he could finally tell Oikawa how their explicit acts was ruining him – had left him with just a phone number that barely even lit up his screen anymore.

There were days where it felt like they’d gone from being the best of friends to just friends that happened to find the time to see each other and even though they’d both been preparing for this day where something of the sorts was sure to happen, everything that had been leading up until Oikawa’s departure had changed something in Iwaizumi.

He felt restless at the thought of going back to Tokyo and finding Oikawa having the time of his life without him. But he also didn’t want to go back finding his best friend barely holding it together because that never meant anything good for Iwaizumi later when he found himself alone in his cold apartment with nothing to keep him distracted from his thoughts.

Iwaizumi zones back into the conversation when he hears voices starting to raise.

“Don’t be an idiot. Kenma would never let you take one of his handhelds.”

“And how the hell would you know, Bakageyama? You don’t know my relationship with Kenma.” There’s a playfulness behind Hinata’s voice but the equilibrium in the room seems to have gone off its railings.

Iwaizumi winces as he sees Kageyama lean just the tiniest bit away from where he was leaning into the backrest right behind Hinata’s head. There’s an uncomfortable silence now between the three of them as Hinata chuckles to himself unaware of how deeply furrowed his eyebrows are getting.

Kageyama is the first to break the silence as he stands back up and adjusts his sweatshirt. Hinata flinches, waiting for some kind of retaliation that he’s grown accustomed to but it doesn’t come. Instead it’s Kageyama’s voice, heavy with some kind of emotion, that draws the two’s attention up towards the gloomy-looking boy. “You’re right. I don’t get it.” He takes a second to look back at his room and then sighs as he turns around in that direction. “It’s getting late. You should probably get back home before Kenma gets worried.”

The slam of the door rings through the hallway and fills the apartment.

The two of them sit in the quiet as the sounds of some crime drama opening intro starts playing in the background. Iwaizumi keeps from slurping his food as he watches Hinata, frozen in place with his eyes locked on where Kageyama was just standing.

A loud “FUCK” follows the dull ringing of the bedroom door and Iwaizumi only catches the tiniest signs of water sliding down Hinata’s face before the boy’s running through the front door, leaving him alone again.

Iwaizumi knows he should probably go and check on Kageyama. Ask him what the hell was going on. But even his day has felt too hectic and taxing on his energy to try to make Kageyama see the damn light for once.

Oikawa wanted to see Iwaizumi. Whether that was because the boy had started to feel lonely again, so far away from home, or if he was just earnest to see his best friend, Iwaizumi had no idea. But the fluttering in his chest mixed with the dread in the pit of his stomach turned Iwaizumi off of the idea.

He still had to get through final exams. This would be his third year at university and next year will be his most difficult if he planned on graduating without any worries. There wasn’t any time to fuck around and even though he hated the idea of Oikawa being a distraction, it wasn’t hard to argue that in the last few years Iwaizumi hasn’t been coming back from the weekends away in the best of spirits.

Iwaizumi groans in the empty room, knowing full well the questions that Hinata had been meaning to ask before the very rude disruption.

He was killing himself. Going back to Oikawa to try to help the other boy’s troubles go away was getting to Iwaizumi. Hinata was stupid most of the time, an airhead off of the court, but he was pretty perceptive when it came to how out of his mind Iwaizumi was feeling.

He needed to find a way to fix this. Whatever this is.

They needed to talk. Oikawa was always busy with rehearsals or touring to out-of-the-way towns to perform god knows what songs those people were forcing him to perform.

Oikawa didn’t even like what they were putting him through. Not really. But the tabloids insisted he was having the time of his life, surrounded by girls, at a party every other weekend he had off.

It was driving Iwaizumi insane.

And admitting it to Oikawa how much it was affecting him felt like he would be presenting a different person. Someone that wasn’t self-assured; who didn’t feel secure in themselves and their relationship with someone they had known for over two decades.

The buzzing of his phone’s text alert echoes in the peripherals of Iwaizumi’s attention and he starts in his seat as he tries to figure out where he’d tossed it amongst the piles of magazines and class notes on the coffee table in front of him. He sets his food down, feeling like it might be the last of it as his appetite vanishes and his stomach falls back into a state of distress.

He finally finds the pinging phone, somehow having slid under loose leaf papers. A text notification lights up as he unlocks the phone and Oikawa’s name lights up.

Iwaizumi frowns, his eyebrows furrowing, as he wonders what the heck Oikawa had forgotten to say in the hour or so they’d been talking before Hinata had interrupted.

“Can’t sleep. Tell me those idiots finally realized it.”

Iwaizumi has to scoff at the irony. Oikawa, although he plays like he doesn’t give a shit, has always been invested in Kageyama’s love story. Something he couldn’t even see past to find the person looking back at him but Iwaizumi wasn’t going to bring that part up with the other boy.

“I’m pretty sure Hinata just fucked it up,” he texts back, instead. It’s an open-ended reply and Iwaizumi knows Oikawa’s going to take the bait and ask what had happened in his best friend’s apartment but that message never comes.

In its place, he gets, “I never really cared about the songs.”

Sensing the change in mood from miles away from those few words, Iwaizumi takes the bait and asks what the hell he’s rambling about.

“The SONGS Iwa-chan! I realized I’ve never actually thought of the words.”

“How the hell do you not think of the words when you’re singing them idiot??”

“idk. I just think about other things I guess”

“Other things”

“…yeah”

Iwaizumi groans. Oikawa is being vague as fuck and it’s always in these moments that Iwaizumi can feel the full force of a migraine coming up on him. “Do you plan on telling me what these other things are?”

“…no”

“Oikawa”

“Iwaizumi”

“Tooru”

“Hajime”

“SHITTYKAWA”

“I knooooowww. I can’t explain it. I just end up thinking about other things that distract me from how shit the songs are ლ(｡-﹏-｡ ლ)”

Iwaizumi smirks. “So you finally admit that those songs you croak out are horrendous? Congratulations on growing up, Assikawa.”

Iwaizumi knows there isn’t much bite as Oikawa’s message comes later than his usual promptness at Iwaizumi’s teasing. “Shut up.”

It’s getting late and even though he doesn’t have a clue what time it could possibly be now, the television had long past the news reports and the midnight infomercials were making Iwaizumi too sleepy to give the attention to Oikawa’s messages. He coerces himself to send a message, his vision already lapsing as he feels himself growing more tired waiting for Oikawa to continue the conversation. “You should sleep. You probably have a long day ahead of you. I’ll talk to you later loser.”

The reply comes quick and Iwaizumi thinks that Oikawa is nowhere near as sleepy as he’s getting. The other guy is probably overthinking whatever it is that he wants to say. “Alrighty Iwa-chan! I have some kind of meeting at the studio tomorrow about a new “project” according to Yamasaki but I’ll call you when I get out.”

“I’ll talk to you later (´∀｀)♡”

Iwaizumi’s chest swells as he starts making his way to the sink to throw away his uneaten dinner. He can feel it, whatever that feeling is, choke him up as it threatens to suffocate and constrict his whole body.

He really doesn’t need to be seizing up when Kageyama could at some point come out here with a brooding face and find him getting emotional over a stupid emoticon.

“Oh god,” Iwaizumi mumbles to himself, remembering the useless tension between his flatmate and his best friend.

One problem at a time. Iwaizumi resolves himself to figuring out just what the feelings overwhelming his body really are. He needs to figure it out himself before even bringing up the possibility of Oikawa’s issues.

At this point he couldn’t even lie to himself. Oikawa was special to him.

He has been since that first night after the game against Karasuno when Oikawa had seeked out Iwaizumi’s body to comfort him.

He probably had been even before that night everything between them had changed.

There was no denying that the two had always went to each other for everything and what happened through their final year together wasn’t any different.

Well, it _was_ different. But it wasn’t a bad different.

Was it?

Bringing his phone back up to see that’d it turned black from Iwaizumi’s drawn out death march to his bedroom, he takes another minute to figure out what he wants to say.

He doesn’t really want to address the shitty face Oikawa had sent but on the other hand, the urge to say it back was making him panic.

He was totally fucked.

Iwaizumi knows he can’t do this. Not now. There were finals and finding a real job to worry about. He still needed to decide if he wanted to pursue graduate school and this was beginning to become a little too much.

He needed a while to figure this out.

“Don’t be gross.”

He drops his phone on his bedside table, his body hitting the mattress right after it, hoping that that’s the end of the conversation for the night.

The last hour or three have been the most hectic and stressful he’s been since that first week of finals when he’d first started university.

His phone buzzes again like a bad omen and he tries not to groan as he slaps his arm around trying to find where the phone is. It can’t be bad. Just Oikawa giving his offense to the remark.

“HAHA!! I love you too Iwa-chan!”

Yup.

Absolutely fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heheheh
> 
> Kageyama and Hinata's relationship/friendship might be brought up in later chapters but I'm also thinking about making a side fic of little snapshots of the days between each chapter in the timeline. Next chapter is about how Iwaizumi deals with all of this feely bullshit with Oikawa
> 
> Leave a comment and kudos. I'm getting closer to finals so it might be a while getting to the next chapter but I really like writing this fic so hopefully it won't be too long 
> 
> [i have a tumblr](http://mamaarachne.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is like the length of the first two chapters combined mostly because I'm taking a slight break for finals and final projects and felt bad leaving you guys with a small 4k update so i wrote a lot uwu
> 
> WARNINGS: this chapter is heavy on the sexual abuse tag. I’m really sorry if it makes you uncomfortable and the words sound too disjointed, it’s just how I wanted to write it and I didn’t want to go back and change it too much because it would take away from the feeling of it. The relationship between Iwaizumi and Oikawa is changing and this chapter is kinda pivotal for that but if you want to skip the scene then stop at “He feels hot. The warmth enveloping him from all around” and continue after “He’d tried so hard to forget…” It’s about 1.6k of writing and all you need to know is Oikawa from post-Kageyama losses is back and it isn't handled well  
> That being said, this whole fic is un-betad so any gripes and comments are totally on me.

The hum of the heavy-duty printer was starting to grate on Iwaizumi’s nerves. The beeping and cartridge refill light blinking about every other week practically had started to become irritating after the first few months but the dull hum and scratching noises as the machine took in paper and splattered ink into a semblance of words left a buzzing in Iwaizumi’s ears.

Over the years, his hearing had gotten a bit sensitive. The softest of noise left him worrying about how loud it could possibly get. There wasn’t anything that Iwaizumi had managed to find offense over in the office in some capacity. Even the music his officemates played through the thin dividers on the main floor, somehow over the years, had grown to become a nuisance at times. But only at times.

It honestly depended on what was playing.

There was no bias of course.

Iwaizumi had learned over the years that habits were sometimes difficult to break no matter how you tried.

If it weren’t for the fact that this job was one in a million and something that he’d been working for since he’d graduated university, Iwaizumi would’ve been a little more upset as the refill light started blinking its warning of death.

He’d just replaced the thing last week.

Why was it always when Iwaizumi was using the printer that the damn thing would run out of ink? First of all, how the hell was just the editing department managing to use all of the ink in those heavy cartridges within the week?

Iwaizumi groaned for the millionth to date in the tiny storage closet as he rummage for the extra sets of ink cartridges. It was probably Kuroo or Bokuto. Or maybe even the two of them converging into one giant pile of ridiculousness.

And as Iwaizumi knelt down to open up the inner workings of the copy printer he prayed to go he wasn’t going to find a dozen copies of someone’s pale ass all across the office.

Even as the lead editor for their tiny little publication space, the two once they were together were a volatile pair and Iwaizumi never seemed to have the energy to keep them out of all the trouble they seemed to get into.

They did their work but that came at the cost of a lot dollars’ worth of ink apparently.

Closing up the latch and resuming the print job, Iwaizumi only has the wall to stare at as he waits.

News has been active lately.

Attacks over the world on the innocent and unarmed. Young kids losing their lives at the hands of those they thought they could trust. People losing their trust in people entirely.

But one thing was always for certain when it came to the media.

There was always something to talk about in the world of entertainment to distract the public.

Iwaizumi hated it.

Media always hiding the biggest events from the majority of the world with their replays of the latest Hollywood gossip that no one would otherwise care about. Even above the sounds of the blasted printer jamming with too much paper, the media’s abuse of the public’s appeal for the world of the rich and famous left Iwaizumi with his blood boiling.

It was mostly why in his last year of university that he’d grown so close to this certain publication house.

They printed the news. They reported out to just the few that cared to subscribe and what with most of their communication and stories being done online, the print side of the operations had been limited to the one office printer and a small-scale printing company to do their jobs.

The publication house, located in central Osaka, had been the perfect opportunity to find a new path.

Iwaizumi had made that promise to himself. He needed to find a way to deal with everything that involved his high school best friend and a chance run in on the publication’s webpage.

Too bad the irony of it rang that the publication house, JapanZine had once upon a time been known as The Alien for some odd reason.

Iwaizumi had brushed it off and accepting it as the tiniest bit of Oikawa he would allow for now in his life he’d applied for a position the months leading up to his graduation.

And now it’s been a couple of years into the works. He’s been here longer than most of the temporaries and had managed to raise himself up into a position of semi-power.

Once Kageyama and Hinata had heard where Iwaizumi had disappeared off to after graduation, even they had seen the appeal of the company. They felt like they were doing something with their time, passing along information that everyone had the right of knowing.

But it was only a matter of time before a grapevine of news had spread and Iwaizumi had found himself with familiar face from nearly a decade ago.

The company had needed writers, photographers, specified editors and people to take over certain columns.

In the early days, the company had been limping on one leg but once Hinata had come in with his excited “WAH”s there was no helping the fact that so many of those long-lost acquaintances had managed to be just what Iwaizumi had needed in employees.

And unfortunately for those that were already employed, it meant a lot of once rowdy people that somehow managed to stay at the top.

There had been many questions at first.

_“Why aren’t you living it up with the Great King?”_

_“Why doesn’t Oikawa come and visit?”_

_“Do you still talk to him?”_

Most of it he met with silence or just the slightest nod of his head as acknowledgement of their stupidly nosey question, but otherwise his thoughts and words refrained from thinking about Oikawa in any sense of the name.

It’s the second reason why he’d chosen this publication specifically to use his degree.

He never had to cover the entertainment gossip.

Staring at the wall, the notices of keeping the room tidy and stocked staring back at him, as Iwaizumi waited for his prints to finally finish up, he couldn’t help but think about how it’s almost been an entire year since he’s seen Oikawa in person.

Sure there were the few times the other guy had shown face on some random news station or talk show that Iwaizumi caught himself watching. And the songs playing through the radio in the open office was something that nobody could really control.

Apparently his “best friend”, as Hinata still likes to put it, has been busy over the months that they haven’t talked. Talks about a tour that’s lasted months have been keeping Oikawa busy and Iwaizumi can only imagine how much of a wrecked mess the guy must be.

As the tinging of the printer alarm system starts going off letting him know his print job is done, Iwaizumi shakes off the thoughts of Oikawa finding a different way – person – to take his stress out on.

It wasn’t his problem anymore anyway. They’d been blatantly ignoring each other for a long time now and whether Oikawa felt the same way it didn’t matter to Iwaizumi because whatever this break was had been good for Iwaizumi.

Besides the fact that Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum had turned to reside in his sanctuary of a job, Iwaizumi had felt, over the months, a certain level of tension just vanishing from his body.

He didn’t feel as claustrophobic and mindful of every single thing around him anymore. It was like at some point, a wall had been knocked out of his way and Iwaizumi could finally breathe some of that city-polluted air that didn’t stink of Oikawa’s body around him.

He felt like he was slowly getting better.

Walking back to his desk, giving a nod over to Akaashi, who’d looked over as he’d walked by, Iwaizumi smiles to himself a little bit.

Maybe a world without Oikawa – a world where Oikawa lived hours away and did his own thing as an adult – was good for him. It sounded horrible but honestly it’s the only way he could explain his feelings.

Maybe someday, in the _far_ future, they could meet up again and toss a volleyball and never bring up whatever happened during those nights where both of them seemed to always lose their resolve and senses.

They’re both nearing 25 now. Oikawa’s on the cusp of becoming bigger than he’s ever been with what Iwaizumi’s seen clips of on TV. Something about a new contract with a record company – he didn’t really know the details of it.

Iwaizumi sighs as he plomps down into his rolling chair, his weight shifting him to the side a bit making him grab onto the edge of his desk.

God he’s really let himself go. Not in the “I’ve gained the freshmen 15 and maybe an extra 10 or so” sense of the term but more like the lack of exercise 5 days a week plus every other weekend has gotten him sluggish and heavy on his feet.

Maybe going back and throwing a volleyball around for a little while would do him some good later on.

But until he can find the time to do so what’s more important is getting his work finished so he can finally go home at get some sleep.

The floor Iwaizumi had been given to work with were in the middle of a huge project. Shifting all their online data and articles into a more compatible format had been a tiresome job and trying to coordinate the staff with the IT group they’d been forced to hire for a majority of the data work had been pulling at the ends of Iwaizumi’s strings.

Iwaizumi boots up his laptop and practically glares at the bottom corner that reads 5:45 PM. It’s Friday afternoon and the urge to just let the papers sit at his desk for Monday is strong as he remembers this will be the first weekend he’s had off in practically weeks.

Everyone around him is already packing up and he looks up from where he’d apparently laid his head down on his desk when he feels someone clap a hand on his back.

“OHO-HO Iwaizumi! Been a while since we’ve had the weekend off, aye?”

Bokuto’s loud, shrill of a voice makes Iwaizumi want to roll his eyes into the fourth dimension as he tries not to physically slide out of his seat with the headache that’s threatening to make its full appearance.

“Yeah it’s been a long time.” He tries to get his desk organized. Letting the papers he’d just printed sit in a stack on top of the other papers he has to get to on Monday. “I’m kind of glad the IT guys need the weekend to finish up the update. I can finally get around to the things that need my attention at home.”

He turns around to face the man and he thanks the gods that at some point over the years Bokuto had taken to taming his hair down into something that didn’t seem so…owlish. And the thick-rimmed glasses did him wonders in convincing the top boss to hire him although the hair managed to be maintained with its flashy white streaks he refused to get rid of.

Bokuto’s eyebrows raise and Iwaizumi internally groans. He probably should have worded that differently. Both Bokuto and Kuroo were always on his case about Iwaizumi’s home life and the conversations – interrogations, really, never left Iwaizumi in the best of moods.

“You got something at home that needs your attention, huh?” He noticeably raises his voice, and Iwaizumi can’t help let his annoyance out with a drawn out mumble of “fucks”. Kuroo’s desk wasn’t so far away from where they were. “Possibly a sweet little lady, hmm?!”

“Lady?!” Kuroo’s voice seems to sound from clear across the room but that doesn’t stop him from getting to Iwaizumi’s desk in 2.0 seconds flat. “You didn’t tell us you had a girl, Iwaizumi. When the hell did this happen?”

Iwaizumi glances at the other boy now hovering over his best friend’s shoulder. He, as well, had toned his hair down so it didn’t spike up as harshly as it did before. The two of them combined probably saved hundreds of dollars on styling gel over the years since their seemingly simultaneous makeovers. Kuroo’s glasses had managed to stay on his face as he tried to lean over Bokuto to watch Iwaizumi’s face but he turns back around to grab his things.

“It didn’t happen.” Iwaizumi stuffs the remaining papers he had left to look at – mostly the lone contracts and such – into his briefcase and clasps it shut with a dull thump. “I didn’t tell you because it never happened. I don’t have a girlfriend.”

He looks around finding that half of the staff has already left for the weekend except for the few stragglers. A quick look and Iwaizumi already knows it’s the same crew that had followed him out here and he can feel a sense of warmth as he watches Hinata fumble with his pencil cup as Kageyama tells him about something nonchalantly without even looking up to see if the other is listening.

Akaashi’s already packed and ready to go but the way he sits at Bokuto’s desk, fiddling with the settings of his DSLR – a new gift from Bokuto himself, it’s obvious he’s not going anywhere without his other half of the small apartment he was renting out with him.

Iwaizumi couldn’t see him but the persistent clicks and swipes from around the corner of the office stalls told him that even Kenma had stayed back. He never looked it but Iwaizumi had learned that Kenma was the type to always listen but never talk until the time came and he felt a certain bout of nerves overwhelm him as he stood up and turned to his coworkers.

Who was he kidding? These idiots were better friends to him then he probably ever deserved.

“Aw c’mon Iwaizumi. When the hell are you gonna find someone and get busy?? Showing up to the holiday parties by yourself is getting real old.” Kuroo laughs at Bokuto’s jab. But it’s a soft “tch” that shuts up Bokuto’s obnoxious laugh and Iwaizumi chuckles at how whipped his friend actually is.

“No thanks. I’d rather refrain from the troublesome couple life if it means I have some freedom to mock you guys.”

Bokuto’s shocked face at Iwaizumi’s words paired with the snickering coming from Akaashi’s direction becomes the topping on the cake as Kenma walks around the corner of the partition and addresses Kuroo who’s uncontrollably laughing on the ground.

“Kuroo. Let’s go now. We have to stop at the grocery store.”

Kuroo starts standing up – grunting with exertion as he wipes away a fake tear with a swipe of his fingers. “Yeah, yeah. I remember.” He latches an arm around the shorter boy’s shoulder and throws a wave over his shoulder as he passes by his desk and grabs his briefcase. “I’ll see you guys on Monday. Don’t get into too much trouble Bokuto.”

“Hey!!” Bokuto shouts back. He quietens his rage a bit when he sees Akaashi stand from his desk, a nonchalant look on his face. And like a dog with his tail between his legs, he lets out a small disgruntled noise and raises his fist up for Iwaizumi.

“See ya later Iwaizumi.” They bump fists and as he catches up to where Akaashi’s standing holding his bag for him, Iwaizumi waves back at them until they leave the room.

He realizes in the silence that at some point Kageyama and Hinata had must’ve left the office during all the ruckus and Iwaizumi finds it leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

The unwarranted and much unneeded thoughts of how the two younger idiots had managed to work out their issues and talked to each other while Iwaizumi led a life in the other direction tried to crop up in his head but he shuts it out as soon as they come.

That was none of his business and the relationship between the other two had been like watching an entire city explode, leaving cheesy piles of flowers in its path once they’d gotten their emotions out in the open. It wasn’t anyone’s doing that Iwaizumi never got those flowers. Not even an explosion to warrant how much it sometimes ached whenever he thought about it for too long.

He’s out of the building and on the streets towards his apartment before he even realizes that his feet had led them there. There are days where he can feel how monotonous and structured his days have become and although on the rare occasion he’d agree to go out with his friends, it still left Iwaizumi feeling empty.

Bored with his life.

But like hell was he going to listen to the idiot pair and try to find someone.

Sure he wanted someone to greet him when he came home but the possibility of it ever ending – crashing down on a high note – didn’t sit right with him and he refrained from even trying.

Whether that was something linked back to Oikawa was beyond his understanding of psychology. All Iwaizumi knew was that he didn’t need anybody and the only people he could really get close to were his friends if anybody.

And even then, he could only take so much of them at a time.

Thankfully both Akaashi and Kenma – the boyfriends of the rowdy duo – were their complete opposites and somewhat sympathized after an episode of questions from the two.

Iwaizumi lets himself into the apartment without any troubles on his way home from work. He lived in a pretty decent neighborhood where the people around him tended to keep to themselves and never paid any heed to Iwaizumi.

At first he didn’t know if he liked the silence he could feel living in the apartment block but after a while and an unexpected visit and hiring process of his friends, Iwaizumi learned to praise and revel in the silence.

He wasn’t surrounded by loud clattering and chattering whenever he was home and it was blessing in disguise especially on those nights he needed the solitude.

And thankfully he’d be getting a full weekend of it starting right now.

Slamming the door behind him and shucking his shoes off to the side, Iwaizumi stomps his way towards his kitchen. He tosses his coat and briefcase along the way onto his tiny dining room table and after chancing a glance to the empty living room – a weird habit he’d picked up since he’d once walked into on his roommates in college. He trudges forward towards the refrigerator.

He’d left a bowl of pasta in there from last night. He felt an embarrassing amount of excitement at the thought of a somewhat delectable meal of leftovers but he swallowed it down as he popped the glass container into the microwave and walked back over the fridge.

He had the weekend to himself. One bottle of beer was something that he definitely deserved considering the week he’d had.

Grabbing the container and a fork from the cabinet drawer, he doesn’t even get as far as the living room and instead sets himself up to lean against the countertop to eat his meal. Thankfully the warm weather the past few days have led into warmer nights and Iwaizumi feels comfortable as he stands on the cool tiles of his kitchen barefoot with the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled to his elbows. The bottoms of his slacks drag across the floor where they sag over his heels as he fidgets on his feet, consistently bringing mouthfuls of food to his mouth without missing a beat.

He finishes eating within a few minutes – a habit he’d gotten into since he was little when speeding through meals equaled to more time spent playing on the court later on.

Iwaizumi pitters around the kitchen for a while. He goes through the motions of washing the dishes and making sure they’re on the drying rack to put away later and then putting away the dishes that have already dried over the course of the day. His usual daily routine.

The second he turns back towards the hallway to reach for his coat to hang up, the sound of a heavy knock on the door cracks through Iwaizumi’s reverie.

He wasn’t expecting anybody at this hour.

It was late on a Friday night and he seriously doubted Kuroo or Bokuto or even Hinata had decided Iwaizumi’s place would be the place of the night even with their tendencies to impulsively show up everywhere. They all knew Iwaizumi was tired as fuck and any sort of shenanigans would’ve drawn him closer to commit murder.

Maybe it was a neighbor finally deciding to give their greetings a couple years too late or that they’d locked themselves out of their apartment and they needed to climb through Iwaizumi’s balcony to get back to their place. They were currently on the third floor so as Iwaizumi walked down the darkened hallway seeing as he never turned on the lights, he hopes that he won’t be liable if someone did try to climb through and consequently fell off the ledge.

Flipping the light switch to look less creepy in the dim hallway, Iwaizumi goes to the door. His hands slip on the cool metal of the doorknob for a second from just washing the dishes but he gets his grip back on it and manages to unlock the bolted lock with his left hand as he turns the knob.

The door creaks on its old hinges and he hopes for a second that it could be the apartment owners so he can finally complain about it and get it repaired before he loses his mind over the loud groans.

All thoughts of writing in the complaint vanish as he has to crane his neck up to look at someone that isn’t the tiny old woman who owns the building.

Brown eyes – glossy with something that Iwaizumi knows very well as an alcohol-induced daze – stare down at Iwaizumi as he stands there dumbfounded on the spot.

It’s been years.

Years since they’d seen each other in person.

At least two since they’d talked on the phone and heard the other’s voice over the static from rushed, international calls.

Over twelve months since Iwaizumi had even seen a message in his inbox addressed from him.

And now for some strange reason, the bane of his existence had found his way to his doorstep looking like a mess and Iwaizumi could feel the rush of water filling around his, suffocating him to the point even his own breathes came to him filtered through heavy pants that sounded like it was pushing through cotton in his earbuds.

He felt warmth overwhelm his extremities as his fingers fell cold against the fabric of his pants.

Oikawa gave that disgusting smirk he’d been renowned for since he became popular in high school. It’d become a trademark, according to the papers, but all Iwaizumi wanted to do was wipe it off with the help of the cold, hard cement that Oikawa was standing on.

How the hell did he even know where Iwaizumi was? Did he call mom and ask where his “special Iwa-chan” had run off to? Why now of all times? Why now after so many years of silence?

“Oikawa.” His voice feels rough, the taste of his dinner rising back up and sticking to the back of his throat as he tries not to vomit and make a mess in his own home. His breathing stammers annoyingly as he tries to stay calm even though it’s been a good few months since he’d had to say the name – a grace given by understanding friends.

Iwaizumi can feel his hands getting clammy. He’s sweating up a storm and he’s thankful he hadn’t worn a colored shirt to work or the pit stains would’ve been a pain in the ass to deal with once it was over.

Whatever the hell _it_ was going to be. Because really. Why the hell was Oikawa here?!

Iwaizumi clenches his fist, watching Oikawa sway on the spot and lean against his doorframe before pushing himself back up. The idiotic smile doesn’t leave his face even as a hiccup escapes his mouth. The stench of cheap vodka and brandy wafts into the doorway and Iwaizumi cringes as he tries to find his voice.

“What are you doing here?”

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa’s voice sing-songs his name and Iwaizumi can feel it pang inside his chest as he hears that stupid nickname coming from an old best friend’s mouth.

A year. All he needed was maybe another year and this encounter would’ve been fine with him but now Iwaizumi can feel his resolve falling apart as Oikawa sways just a little too far forward on his feet.

Iwaizumi catches the taller boy and grunts at the dead weight over him. Oikawa is still conscious and barely getting his feet under him so Iwaizumi shifts them inside the doorway and drops Oikawa onto the floor before closing the front door. Just because he’s never talked to his neighbors didn’t mean he wanted them to spread rumors about him.

Iwaizumi tries to calm his breathing, his eyes never straying from where Oikawa’s slumped against the wall mumbling to himself.

He hears the occasional “Iwa-chan” through the slurred words and as much as Iwaizumi would love to just let Oikawa spend the night on the floor of his hallway, a belated email from the boy’s manager about a stiff neck and a mighty hangover wouldn’t do Iwaizumi much good. Especially if Yamasaki was still the pain in the ass he’d been the last time Iwaizumi had spoken to him.

“Oikawa. Come on we gotta get you to the living room.” Iwaizumi kneels down next to the other boy. He tries to keep his distance, his knees staying underneath him and away from where Oikawa is still sprawled out on the hardwood floors. Iwaizumi reaches out and locks his wrists under Oikawa’s armpits and with a bit of heaving and groaning, Oikawa finally lets go of his position on the ground.

Oikawa moans out his protests but follows along with Iwaizumi easily enough and Iwaizumi’s thankful that there isn’t so much of a challenge to dragging Oikawa nearly the entire apartment.

He drops Oikawa onto the couch, the old springs groaning in the otherwise silent room. Oikawa mumbles to himself incoherently and Iwaizumi takes the time for Oikawa to gather his reins and goes back into the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

Iwaizumi loiters in the kitchen for a second, his grip tightened over the sink’s edge as he tries to keep his shaky hands steady to fill the glass with water. He manages to steady his breathe but he blinks a couple times to keep the stinging away from his eyes.

Oikawa’s appearance in his apartment was surprising to say the least. A rush of confusing emotions coming at him all at once had left him blinded for a second but now, with a heavy hand holding a glass of water and a much less foggy head, Iwaizumi felt somewhat ready to go out there and figure out why Oikawa decided to make the sudden appearance.

Walking around the corner, Iwaizumi comes face-to-face to a more sober-looking Oikawa struggling to stay sitting up with a nauseous look on his face. He hasn’t seen Iwaizumi yet and the latter uses the opening again and steps up to Oikawa, thrusting the glass in his face.

Oikawa snaps up in his seat, his eyebrows raised in surprise and that face lasts a good two second before the sudden movement seems to get to his head and he groans obnoxiously loud and grabs at his head. “Ughh….”

Iwaizumi thrusts the cup back into his face, his own hands looking steadier than Oikawa’s entire shaking body. “Drink it, idiot. You’ll feel better when the hangover kicks in.”

With a bit of mumbled bitching and groaning, Oikawa finally drags his hands down his face and accepts the glass. He downs the water within seconds and passes the glass back into Iwaizumi’s hand who places it down on the coffee table.

“Iwa-chan. I’m sleepy.”

Iwaizumi groans. “What the fuck are you doing here, Oikawa? How did you even know where I was?”

Oikawa struggles but gets himself to lean back and rest his head on the back of the couch. “Your mom’s still the saint I remember her being. She helped me find my lost best friend.”

Oikawa chuckles but as Iwaizumi huffs in disbelief, the grin seems to slide off his face. “Best friend? We haven’t talked to each other in nearly a year you shithead. What kind of best friend ignores someone for that long?”

A confused look crosses Oikawa’s face. “I wasn’t ignoring you.” His voice sounds sincere and Iwaizumi wants to believe the other boy for what he’s saying but something in him stirs and waves of nausea threatens to bubble back up. Oikawa rubs the gunk out of his eyes and sighs, “Those people have been keeping me busy. I never even found the time to sleep let alone remember to catch up with people.”

“Didn’t know I was someone you had to _remember_ to contact,” Iwaizumi remarks. He gives off the air that his comment is off-handed and that he doesn’t necessarily care, but even Iwaizumi can hear the waver in his voice.

Oikawa sits up, his headache seeming to dissipate with the help of the water. “That’s not what I meant, Iwa-chan. You know that.”

“Do I? Because, honestly, I can never know when it comes to things involving you.” Iwaizumi crosses his arms over his chest. He doesn’t dare sit down, not when Oikawa can always manage the upper hand when they sit next to each other.

Oikawa furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean, Oikawa. Don’t make me spell it out for you.” Iwaizumi’s gaze lingers on Oikawa for a second before he starts to feel his resolve dissolve and he has to turn away from Oikawa. He’s somehow gotten more attractive over the years since he’d last seen the boy in person. The black jeans he’s wearing seem to hug tight against Oikawa and the leather jacket thrown over a plain tee shirt has Iwaizumi’s stomach going through loops.

Oikawa looked sturdier even the daze of alcohol surrounding him. Meat on his bones and muscle to compensate for it. He was definitely being looked after in Tokyo without Iwaizumi or his family to bother him about it every day.

Iwaizumi watches as Oikawa clenches his teeth, his jawline moving and tensing with it.

God, Iwaizumi was weak to this idiotic asshole.

They stare at each other for a while until Oikawa slides down in his seat, his sock-clad feet slipping on the cool floors. “Iwaaaaaa. Can we not argue right now? My head is killing me and I just wanna sleeeeeep.”

Seeing Oikawa as a lost cause for the night, Iwaizumi grunts in annoyance. He really just wanted to take a hot shower and go to bed for the rest of his weekend and somehow get Oikawa out of his place long enough to get something done but he decides any answer from Oikawa won’t make enough sense to keep Iwaizumi’s anger subdued. He can already feel the old flames lighting up in his gut as Oikawa slumps down and presses his face into the old fabric of the couch and mumbles more nonsense.

“Yeah, whatever. But I expect a full explanation tomorrow, Shittykawa.” He walks over to the hallway linen closet haphazardly stocked with extra towels and blankets from over a dozen holidays he’d been away from his mother. Grabbing the itchiest blanket in there, he throws it across the room, letting it plop down on Oikawa’s head. The bundle shuffles and twitches and Iwaizumi hears s muffled “fuck” come from under the pile. “You’re taking the couch. There’s water in the pipes and only enough hot water for me so don’t complain like a little princess.”

Oikawa says something but it’s under a load of fabric and Iwaizumi takes it as his goodnight and walks back towards his room. He leaves the coat and briefcase for tomorrow’s worries. Right now all he can think about is that hot shower and time to think.

He strips and gets into the shower quickly, his body working mechanically and on autopilot as he lets the water soak into his hair and warm his skin.

Iwaizumi didn’t realize how cold he’d gotten from just standing there in his living room.

He’s quick to get in and although he lingers longer than his usual after-work showers, he’s out and dressed before the chill of the night air seeps further into his bones.

So much for warm summer nights.

The approaching autumn season was creeping up on Osaka and Iwaizumi didn’t like it one bit. He preferred the warmer temperatures that reminded him of those days filled with ratty, old tank tops and chasing bugs around the local park back home.

The warmth felt like home to him.

Iwaizumi hovers around his bedroom door. Deciding whether it’d be worth it to go check up on Oikawa but he hears a thump coming from the living room and a sign that Oikawa was at least alive was good enough for Iwaizumi’s tired mind and he let it be.

He had those millions of questions at the ready for the very moment Oikawa would wake up. One of the main questions being, why the hell did he even come to Osaka because the last Iwaizumi heard, Tokyo, where Oikawa lived for at least most of the year he wasn’t touring or working, was over six hours away from here.

Iwaizumi clambers into the bed.

He shakes the questions out of his head for now. There was no need to worry over nothing through the night. All it would do is cause a migraine and an even sour attitude and even Oikawa didn’t deserve that. Well…

Yeah. No. Oikawa didn’t even deserve to see Iwaizumi get wholly upset.

Turning off the bedside lamp, stares into the darkness. The events of today have started to catch up to him and causes a rampage in his head as he tries to shut out the world.

Oikawa has stopped thumping around outside and if Iwaizumi closes his eyes and forgets hard enough, he can imagine that he really is alone in his apartment and there isn’t a slightly unwanted guest camped out right outside of his door. A person that’s practically a stranger now considering how long it’s been since they’d last caught up. A person that Iwaizumi can say majorly fucked up his life up until the day Iwaizumi had finally had enough.

Iwaizumi lets his eyes rest, soaking in the quiet atmosphere in his room.

***

He feels hot. The warmth enveloping him from all around.

Iwaizumi shuffles in place; his hands fidgeting and toes twitching. He can tell his eyes are still shut from how much the darkness surrounds him but the warmth passes over his head as he revels in the feeling and lets it overwhelm him.

The cool night air hitting his face rivaled with the hot air over his body relaxes Iwaizumi further into the bed and he groans, trying to turn his body to the side under the covers.

The second he realizes that he can’t get his body to turn to the side, his legs locked straight ahead of him, Iwaizumi’s eyes snap open.

He can faintly make out the ceiling above his head; the moon giving enough light to watch the shadows of the tall trees right outside his window make shapes in the dark. He tries to focus his eyes, vision still swimming in fatigue when he finds that his breathing isn’t the only one in the room.

Iwaizumi tilts his head down far enough to find himself staring at soft, brown hair. Oikawa must’ve woken up in the middle of the night and crawled into Iwaizumi’s bed. He could let the boy sleep with him; it would be just like old times when they were young and innocent and stubborn to the nights before. He’s just about to figure out a way to maneuver Oikawa off of him and into the space next to him when Iwaizumi feels that warm heat again.

The once soft breathes coming from Oikawa turn vulgar and disjointed as Oikawa shifts continuously over Iwaizumi.

The heat radiating off of Oikawa’s body is heavy and affecting, and although he seems larger than Iwaizumi, there’s no way Oikawa should be this warm – his body radiating so much heat in such a little amount of space between the bed and comforter thrown over his shoulder. .

Oikawa pushes himself down into Iwaizumi’s body with a soft moan that’s barely noticeable and it’s like a horror film flashing before Iwaizumi’s eyes at a 100 frames per second as he realizes what’s happening.

This wasn’t home.

This wasn’t the soft smells of his mother’s cooking and the touch of the cool summer grass under skid-marked knees as he waited for an army of ants to come steal his chocolate chips.

All he could see was a dark room, the sounds of heavy breathing and fabric against fabric rubbing together as he tried to find his voice. Oikawa must’ve at some point stripped out of his jacket because Iwaizumi can feel the steady heat of familiar arms leaning against his body.

He doesn’t know if Oikawa is actually awake of if he knows that Iwaizumi’s awake but he needs to get the other boy’s attention. He needs to-

Oikawa groans loudly and shifts his hips up against Iwaizumi’s thighs until his hair is tickling Iwaizumi’s nose, his mouth hung open gasping for air by his ear. “Hmm Iwa-”

“Oi-Oikawa. Oikawa c’mon.” Iwaizumi squirms his arm out from under Oikawa’s weight. Placing it on the boy’s shoulder, Iwaizumi tries to push Oikawa off of him. He tries to get Oikawa off but whatever it is inside of him won’t let him get past a small nudge before Iwaizumi’s feels his strength leaving him.

He’s shaking all over. Oikawa has to be able to tell how shaken up he is right now. He has to stop when he sees Iwaizumi befuddled into the next era. He has to.

“I missed you so much Iwa-chan.”

Oikawa shifts again, dragging his lips against Iwaizumi’s neck – the movement leaving a burning feeling in its wake along the expanse of skin. Iwaizumi feels his heart stop as Oikawa lingers his lips long enough to take heavy breathes against the crook of his neck. He doesn’t dare move. Too afraid any sudden motion will launch Oikawa’s rough lips to press against the pulse of his neck.

A sense of deja-vu runs chills through Iwaizumi’s body as he tries to unhook Oikawa’s grip from his body. He tries to gather his strength to push away, to yell louder and get Oikawa off of him. To find the will to tell his best friend he’s had enough.

But the thoughts come and go just as quick as he feels Oikawa press against him again.  

Oikawa’s hips move fervently. There’s a pulse to his motions and even though the overstimulation from being surrounded by Oikawa’s scent feels suffocating, Iwaizumi can feel the pressure of the other boy hardening against his legs.

“Oikawa ple-”

“Mm.” Oikawa moans gutturally. “It’s been so long, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi gasps as he feels Oikawa move over him. A hand slithers between their bodies and Iwaizumi groans at the pressure along his crotch. Oikawa squeezes in time with his rutted movements, his body sliding against Iwaizumi but grounding the boy underneath him.

“Why did you leave me, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi whimpers as Oikawa squeezes painfully hard at his name. His breathe flutters along Iwaizumi’s jawline. The heat twists Iwaizumi’s stomach into knots and when he feels the contact of lips against his face, he can’t help the feeling of bile from rising in his throat.

Oikawa kisses lightly along his neck and jawline – straying a few time to lap his earlobe or hover over Iwaizumi’s cheeks. A soft “Iwa-chan” follows every kiss as Oikawa keeps gliding against Iwaizumi’s motionless form.

All he can do – the only strength he can find – is in keeping himself from vomiting into his own mouth as tears threaten to run down the side of his face.

“Ple-Please. Sto-” Iwaizumi stutters. The tears slide down his face, pooling along the sides of his face and towards his ears. He tries to shake off chilling feeling and Oikawa’s persistent motions but he’s stopped as Oikawa reaches up with the hand that isn’t still pressed between them and latches onto Iwaizumi’s hand. He pushes his weight into him, Iwaizumi’s hand arching back in a painful angle as Oikawa ignores the whimpers of discomfort.

Iwaizumi can feel himself hardening half-heartedly against Oikawa’s ministrations. Oikawa reaches low and a moan is all he needs to solicit the lithe fingers of a long ago setter to pull away and slip between the fabric along Iwaizumi’s waist.

Iwaizumi’s back arches, his head hitting and pressing hard against his pillow. He let out a guttural groan and Oikawa hums along over him. He croons a tune into Iwaizumi’s ear and it sounds familiar. Something he’d probably heard through Kuroo’s radio.

“Ah. Oi-Oikawa. Shit….”

Oikawa lessens his weight over Iwaizumi – giving the boy under him more room to shift his own hips on his own. Iwaizumi huffs at the feeling of open air as his dick pushes against the fabric of his pants as Oikawa’s hand that’s lingering on his pelvis, mockingly retaining from touching Iwaizumi.

He feels himself shift unconsciously towards the boy’s hands in his pants. His hips swaying and fumbling, trying to find something to grind against.  

Oikawa lets out a dark laugh – a deep-throated, heavy sound that leaves chills along Iwaizumi’s arms but a stirring in his lower half that has him whining into the dark room, staring up at the shadowed ceiling.

He can feel himself getting embarrassingly close the second Oikawa’s thin fingers wrap themselves around his length. The pressure from Oikawa and listening to the heavy breathing against his ears coils the centers of Iwaizumi’s body more and more as Oikawa’s hips start thrusting against his dick sporadically.

Oikawa raises and slam his lower body down against Iwaizumi – both moaning on impact without hesitance.

“I knew you missed me, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi lets go of his hold on Oikawa’s shoulder and brings it up to cover his mouth. His face feels wet from where tears are still soaking into his skin and where a thin dribble of drool from himself and a thin layer of spit from Oikawa have meshed together on his jaw.

“You missed me.”

He bits the side of his hand – the pain barely registering over the ecstasy mixing with the panic as Iwaizumi tries to keep his eyes open.

The urge to just shut his eyes to the world – to Oikawa’s labored breathing – and to just live in the way that he feels so damn good burns holes into Iwaizumi’s resolve.

He can already feel himself crashing and burning and taking the whole structured system he’d created over the past few years with him. It’s going down with Oikawa and he doesn’t know – can’t find the strength in him – to just push the boy away.

He’s gotten weak over the years. He’d been weak to Oikawa since high school and it’d somehow carried into the present and now he felt like nothing. He felt like a puppet being stringed along and brought out of the closet to be played with once he was deemed necessary.

Oikawa wasn’t meant to be here. Neither on top of him with his hips pressing intermittently against Iwaizumi, nor in Osaka in general.

A heavy grunt comes from the boy on top of him as he roughly pushes against Iwaizumi.

Oikawa grinds him hips down against Iwaizumi making the latter gasp, already at his limits.

His palm still pressed against the base of Iwaizumi’s dick, Oikawa plays his fingers around Iwaizumi who bites down hard on his hand.

Oikawa ruts against Iwaizumi, riding out his orgasm as he presses his smiling lips against the boy’s collarbone. Iwaizumi’s hips twitch as his eyes fill with stars. Unbearable heat scorched its way through Iwaizumi’s body as he felt the sweat drip off of Oikawa’s body onto his arms.

His shirt ridden up to expose the expanse of his abdomen to the heat of Oikawa’s body, all Iwaizumi can manage to recognize is how heavy his own breathing has become.

He felt Oikawa litter kisses along his body; the boy dipping down to plant his lips over Iwaizumi’s chest and his exposed shoulders. His hand still running circles around Iwaizumi’s dick moved along with each kiss.

Iwaizumi bit down on his own hand. The taste of copper lingering and filling his mouth as he groaned inwards.

“Iwa-chan.... You’re mine, Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi whimpered, falling through the cracks of his storybook reality. He felt like he was slipping through a bed of lies as he rode down from his orgasm, Oikawa’s lips smacking against him the only sounds in the room.

He’d tried so hard to forget – to move on. He wanted to get past whatever had been stopping him from doing things that he didn’t even realize he wanted.

Staying away from Oikawa had been a part of the fairytale he’d been wishing was real since the other boy had moved to Tokyo.

Iwaizumi thought that the chance had come; that he would be able to step away in some grand gesture of events.

But now all Iwaizumi could see were the dimmed shadows etched into the ceiling of his one-bedroom apartment far away from his family.

He’d moved away from the people he loved just to get away from his own vulnerabilities and now look where he was. Back to the very start of the never-ending story.

Tears slipped down Iwaizumi’s face as he tried to dislodge his teeth from his bleeding hand. He’d have to take care in bandaging the damages tomorrow when he woke up.

Oikawa shifts. He lifts his body up off of Iwaizumi, finally, and plops down next to him.

His breathing is labored and the room is thick with the smell of their sweat and Iwaizumi feels a pang as he remembers the days in high school after games when the locker rooms never stopped smelling grimy and as sick as Iwaizumi felt now.

He hated it. The smell was ruining something – a memory – held precious to him. Memories when he felt happier and at peace. When the weight of the world didn’t feel like it was looming over him as he fell from his own artificial high.

Oikawa moved again. Hip lips came back to glide against Iwaizumi’s shoulder where they stayed until Iwaizumi’s motionless form recognized the heavy breathing had grown a pattern and Oikawa had fallen asleep.

Sleep was at the cusp of his own mind. His eyes growing heavy and body succumbing to the feeling as well, Iwaizumi couldn’t do much to help himself stay awake. He didn’t know why he wanted to stay awake; why he wanted to lay there remembering and replaying everything, but it was a losing battle and he soon followed the guide of his eyes and let himself go.

Oikawa swaddles himself around Iwaizumi, his lips resting lightly against hot and sweaty.

Iwaizumi lets out a shuddered breathe, only one thought on his mind as he slips back into a fitful sleep.

_It was never the lips._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your concerns and annoyances about my writing can be put into comment form on here or [i have a tumblr](http://mamaarachne.tumblr.com/). I understand that it's a really temperamental subject and I honestly don't mean any harm by it
> 
> And again, if you skipped the written, disjointed scene then all you need to know is that the Oikawa from post-Kageyama losses is back and it isn't handled well and Iwaizumi realizes that's it's become a lost cause. Other than that, I hope you liked the intro to the other characters. I feel like i wanna drop this project already just trying to write out these warnings for people that are definitely going to feel personally attacked so here's hoping I don't delete this fic off the face of the earth and try to give you guys the ending that I've been planning for a while. I've had to deal with a lot of shit the past few weeks and i can't even begin to explain how much better it felt after i wrote down the most angstiest passages i've ever written. so yeah. 
> 
> [[I'm a part of the JeanMarco Secret Santa btw and I'm writing a fic so check that out if ya want. It's going to be waaaaayyy less sad than this]]


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up and facing it is harder than you'd think and all Iwaizumi wants to do is walk away from it all. And this is the one time he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol hi im back with angst

His tongue felt tacky.

Every inch of his mouth feeling like it’d been scrubbed down with cotton swabs and left out in the sun to dry.

Static seemed to cling to the thin layers of clothes and cheap sheets thrown across his body and for a while he refused to open his eyes to the harsh rays of sunlight streaming through the gaps of the plastic blinds. It was warm and although there was a level of uncomfortableness that slathered thickly over his legs, it was manageable.

At least it was for those three seconds.

Blinking his eyes open to the sight of the cracks in the ceiling and the flicks of dust dancing in the sunlight was a different story altogether.  

The kinks in his neck ached as he stretched his spine off of the bed. Heels digging into the mattress, Iwaizumi soon became aware of the slight dip of the springs to his side. His arms felt heavy and giggly as Jell-O as he raised his hand and dragged it down his face. The crusts lodged in the corners of his eyes pricked his skin and he roughly rubs them away. He slowly turns his head and comes face-to-face with a pile of brown hair mussed up from the pillows.

Oikawa is splayed across his half of the bed, his hair tossed around in disarray and drool spilling out the side of his mouth. The sight of him left a twisting feeling in Iwaizumi’s gut and he forced himself to sit upright. He could feel the sticky residue drying against the inside of his thigh and he grimaced as he tossed the sheets across Oikawa’s motionless body.

His feet hit the chilled floor and a shiver runs up into his arms. Forgoing the search for a pair of socks, Iwaizumi quickly slips out of his pair of boxers and into a cleaner pair from his dresser and makes his way towards the kitchen – his mind faraway as he steps over the few articles of clothes strewn over the floor.

He feels numb and his mouth is too dry for him to think about anything except a glass of water.

A shuffle of sheets sounds from behind him but he ignores it as he lets the door loudly creak open.

Oikawa waking up from the ruckus he was creating was the least of his worries. Like he even cared anymore at this point.

He felt numb – suppressing his entire body. All he felt the urge to do was find himself something to drink before the migraine brewing behind his eyes could get any worse. He’d have preferred a real drink but a quick reminder of the heaviness in his body and memories of last night wiped that idea clear from his head.

Iwaizumi grabs a glass off the drying rack and fills it to the brim with tap water. The sound of him chugging the entire glass is too tinny to mask the groan and yawn from behind him.

He can hear the familiar cricks of Oikawa’s knees and back from years spent playing volleyball. His left hand gripped tightly over the rim of the sink, Iwaizumi places the glass back onto the rack.

There’s a second where silence reigns the room. Iwaizumi staring at the tiny droplets of water clinging onto the stainless steel of the sink and Oikawa probably trying to blink himself awake.

Taking a shaky breathe, Iwaizumi takes the plunge and decides to move first and turns to the side to ready the coffee machine on the counter. He fills the pot with water and scoops an extra spoonful of coffee grounds into the filter before flipping the switch on. He couldn’t hear Oikawa’s movements and when he turns around he realizes that Oikawa actually hasn’t moved away from the archway.

His body seems stiff yet wobbly at the same time. Either he’s still waking from the early morning light or a hangover is growing.

Iwaizumi understands that feeling. Every movement painful and even blinking too hard to swallow down before wanting to chuck up everything from the night before.

Iwaizumi swallows. The idea of bringing up everything from last night seemed even painful for him.

Oikawa’s gaze seems far off and steady on something over Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

Iwaizumi clears his throat and he curses his morning voice as he croaks out a greeting. “Hey.”

Oikawa visibly shakes himself back to the present and Iwaizumi watches the edge of his lip raise slightly in a small smile. “Morning, Iwa-chan.” There isn’t any feeling behind it and it seems void of any of the mirth Iwaizumi had grown familiar to but he keeps it to himself as he watches the lilt of Oikawa’s lips twitch under his gaze. If anything, at least the two are able to lock eyes.

“Morning. I’m making coffee. You want some?”

Oikawa nods minutely and turns towards the small table crowded into the corner of the kitchen to take a seat.

Iwaizumi notices he must’ve scrounged and shrugged his clothes back on haphazardly before walking into the kitchen.

The tag of his tee shirt hangs limply against the nape of his neck.

It’s awkward. Terribly awkward and it makes Iwaizumi want to jump out of the small window in the living room behind where Oikawa’s hovering in the doorway.

But the worst part is how familiar it all seems.

The silence settling over them as the weight of hours before settles between them. Iwaizumi’s eyes focus onto the bleached clothing tag hanging from Oikawa’s dark shirt.

He doesn’t have a clue of what to say.

He wants to hate this. How they feel like strangers but how undifferent these quick reunions have been over the past decade. A little part inside of him hates how Oikawa can even meet eyes with Iwaizumi after everything but he also knows how easy it is to play this game of do-and-forget and he ends up hating himself.

Finding himself repulsive.

Thanking the high lord in heaven when the coffee machine beeps its completion, Iwaizumi turns around in the blink of an eye to grab two coffee mugs from the cabinet next to the sink. He busies himself with making their drinks – knowing how they both take their coffee and hoping to forget his usual train of thought. Oikawa’s being milk with just the hint of coffee that gave Iwaizumi cavities just thinking about it and Iwaizumi’s with not enough whiskey and a wish to time travel back to grade school and searching for beetles.

He grabs the mugs and with a deep breathe, Iwaizumi turns back to the small kitchen table and takes a seat opposite his taller friend. He slides the mug across the shellacked tabletop.

Something flickers in Oikawa’s eyes as he looks down at the milky white concoction and Iwaizumi notices the small smile.

They sip together in silence. The awkwardness is still heavy but lessening as the caffeine surges through Oikawa’s body and he visibly starts relaxing and awakening. Iwaizumi doesn’t relent the pressure pooling at the base of his spine that keeps him rigid in his chair as he tries to sip at the still hot coffee.

“They’re talking about another album.” Oikawa’s voice cuts through the silence and although Iwaizumi starts at the noise, he schools his expression before Oikawa is able to glance up to look at him. His voice is still rough and worn from sleep and it croaks how it used to after hours of training at camps and nights spent sleeping on the floor.

“Really?”

Oikawa nods. “Mhm. They want it to be this pop music type of deal. Very cheerful and “lively” is what Yamasaki called it. Very Justin Bieber. He was talking about the videos and how he’d find the best back-up girls.”

Silence hangs over the table as they try to think of what to say. Iwaizumi swallows and he knows Oikawa can hear it in the empty room when he sees the boy flinch unconsciously. “Sounds…interesting – good. It sounds like a good way to move up.”

“I guess. But it just- it feels so excessive when I listen to them talk about it.”

Iwaizumi hums to himself as he stares down at his coffee. He tilts the mug and watches it swirl and collect into a mini-cyclone.

“It’s just so cliché and…old news, you know? Like it feels so basic and it’s just so boring.”

Iwaizumi looks up at that that. A frown settles on his face as he furrows his eyebrows. “You’re bored.” He means to ask it as a question but the statement settles between them like a giant pink elephant in the room.

“With my music, sometimes, yeah. I just-I don’t know what to do anymore.” His eyes are unwavering as they roam across Iwaizumi’s face and the shorter boy squirms in his seat as he stares down at the bits left of his coffee.

“Well they’ve pretty much given you something to do.” Iwaizumi downs the last of his cooled coffee and stands from the table and pads back over to the kitchen sink. “It’ll be good to get more exposure,” he says towards the faucet. He runs the water and lets his mug fill to the brim before grabbing a sponge to rub it clean. “You’ll become an even bigger star.”

There isn’t menace in his voice but he can feel the tension before he sees Oikawa’s spine go rigid behind him. It’s electrifying. Years of spending hours on the same court has made Iwaizumi hyperaware of every one of Oikawa’s ticks and movements.

“I don’t know. I feel like I’m getting a bit too old to be singing shitty love songs for a buck.” Oikawa sounds indignant. The familiar sound of him huffing and pouting and most likely crossing his arms across his chest.

“Well this is the life you chose.” Iwaizumi not-so-gently places the mug onto the drying rack. He grips onto the edge of the sink again before turning around and letting the knuckles of his hands turn white in contempt behind his back. “Why are you so against this? It’s just one album.”

“I know, Iwa-chan. But one album can easily turn into this huge thing. Soon everyone’s gonna want a second dumb tour across Japan and my entire twitter feed is gonna fill with a million theories on “who the girl is” and it’s just really annoying watching people wave signs in my face with all these random girls’ name. Do you know how grow it feels having these people tell me to marry them or someone I’ve hung out for like a second or whatever nonsense.”

Iwaizumi huffs in annoyance. “Well. I assume the job comes with the territory. So you’re just gonna have to deal until Yamasaki figures something out. Besides, aren’t you used to all that attention? How many girlfriends did you have in high school, again?”

He knows his sarcasm might’ve hit a note but there’s nothing stopping Iwaizumi from opening his mouth. The fatigue of the summer heat so early in the morning is relentless streaming through the small window over the sink and he can feel his thinking veer off-course.

Oikawa huffs and the legs of the chair screech across the cheap linoleum and clatter onto the ground as Oikawa stands up, slamming his mug down onto the table. “But I don’t want to deal and wait for momma Yamasaki to fix things!” he yells. He throws his arms out to drag his point home – avoiding the other comments on past relations – and Iwaizumi cocks an eyebrow back at the absurd way Oikawa’s holding himself in the middle of his kitchen.

“Then leave.”

Oikawa stares at Iwaizumi whose grip tightens ever more on the rims of the sink. His back stiffens visibly as he brings his arms back in to his sides. Oikawa’s face remains blank, as if in thought. “…What.”

“If you’re so done with it, then leave.”

Oikawa huffs… in relief? “I can’t just leave. Not after- not after all the years I’ve put into this. I can’t just let it go.”

Something in Iwaizumi’s chest seizes. They both know that there’s more to this then what’s on the surface. A double meaning to the way Oikawa’s holds himself together as if worried to step to far over the ledge and break everything around him.

Everything inside Iwaizumi comes to a screeching halt. His veins running cold as he tries to think of something not stupid to say.

“Then change it. Sing about something different. Something you want to sing about.” Options. Give options to help figure this out. To fix the problem.

“I-I don’t even know what I want…”

Iwaizumi huffs to himself. He lets go of his death grip on the sink and lets his back rest against the counter as he folds his arms across his chest. He can feel the contempt raising in his own body. Tired of going back and forth over this but wanting to find a resolution.

Years of it seeming to collect all at once in the back of Iwaizumi’s throat. “Either you figure it out and do it or just leave, Oikawa. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“It’s not that simple. I can't do that. Everyone will be so disappointed. I can't even go back to volleyball anymore what am I supposed to do if it all goes away.”

He can feel the heat in his chest bubbling in anger now. His mouth opens before he can think to simmer it down to a more coherent level. "Then just do what you've been doing so far; whatever the fuck you feel like doing without little thought needed."

Oikawa flinches for a second but doesn’t relent. “It’s not that easy. Appeasing everyone is hard, Iwaizumi.” An uneasy shiver runs down Iwaizumi’s spine as he hears his full name coming from his friend’s mouth for the first time in what feels like years. Oikawa’s brows furrow in anger before his face falls into something else – the tears threatening to pool and slide down the sides of his face. There’s worry hidden behind it as his voice hitches in the back of his throat and Iwaizumi’s chest tightens at the sound of the strain. “Who’s side are you even on?!”

“Yours, Tooru.”

Oikawa swallows down whatever he’s about to spew and shifts his gaze down at his sock-clad feet. “I know. It’s just- it’s hard. I don’t want to leave but I just don’t know how to fix it.”

Iwaizumi’s can feel the dryness creeping back in over his mouth. His tongue feels heavy again and it strains him to get the words out but he also can’t help the words coming out of his mouth. “I’ve always been on your side, Oikawa. Always. But….” He releases a shaky breathe. This was getting bad but he needed to do this.

Oikawa glances up. There’s remorse written clear as day across his face as his eyes pin Iwaizumi to the kitchen counter. “But what?” he whispers.

“I’m tired. I’m so tired, Oikawa. I've been trying to be here for you – be here for when you wanted to come home. I want to help you but I can’t anymore. I want this to end. I’m tired of being akin to a punching bag when you’re here and having to watch you walk out the door and have an amazing life like nothing could bother you.” Iwaizumi cuts off Oikawa before he can get a word in. “Don’t think I’m blind, Tooru. I work at a damn publishing studio and Kageyama and everyone else still remembers who you are. Who you used to be.”

Oikawa takes a step back as if being any closer would cause something between them to implode and Iwaizumi watches lithe fingers once perfect for setting volleyballs fiddle with the hem of his shirt. Nervous habits are hard to kill.

“I know. I know that, Iwa-chan.” He takes a deep breathe. “I know but I don’t know how to fix it.” Oikawa’s gaze travels all around the kitchen walls – lingering on the cabinet doors and few dishes strewn about. He locks eyes back to Iwaizumi. “Just tell me what to do. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Iwaizumi stares back at Oikawa’s unwavering gaze and with a resolute hum he pushes himself off the counter. He can feel his heart stammering back into an even pace. Everything in him is tired and anxious to get Oikawa out of his face and out his mind.

“I want you to go home.”

Silence hangs heavy over them. Almost as if neither of them dare take a breath in fear of how the other might react.

Oikawa opens and closes his mouth and Iwaizumi has that out-of-way thought of how he looks like he did when they were younger and Oikawa had learned that Iwaizumi was going to follow him to Kitigawa Daiichi after they’d had an ridiculously intense argument over a bug Iwaizumi had placed on Oikawa’s head. He looks like a stupid fish gasping for air and grasping for something to say over the urge to let the tears flow.

“I didn’t ever mean to hurt you. You’re all that I have now Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi doesn’t respond and shuffles on his feet in the space between them. He keeps his gaze from running over Oikawa’s face. It’s like Oikawa’s taken a damn wrecking ball to the wall of illusions they’ve built over this conversation. It aches to hear the waver in both their voices and Iwaizumi’s throat threatens to close up but he swallows what he can and shakes his head.

Oikawa’s voice wavers. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to find the time to come back.”

Iwaizumi shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t-“

Iwaizumi cuts him off, dusty green eyes locking back with Oikawa’s brown. He imprints them into his memory for however long this next hiatus will be.

“It doesn’t _matter_ , Oikawa.”

Oikawa shuts his mouth and without another word, Iwaizumi walks towards the living room. Oikawa tenses his shoulders as he gets closer but they fall as Iwaizumi walks past him. A shuddery breathe whisks out of his chest and Iwaizumi refuses to acknowledge the tightening in his own chest. He refuses to acknowledge the way Oikawa’s eyes were dark and bottomless and so much sadder than he’d ever wanted to see them. They looked tired but Iwaizumi knew he didn’t look any better.

He doesn’t say another word and the bubble of space – uncomfortable space that wasn’t anything like how it once was years ago – seems to pop as Iwaizumi’s bare feet echoes off the linoleum floors onto the hardwood of his living room. The sound rings and reverberates off the minimal decorations and knick-knacks lining the shelves as the ghost of Oikawa’s breathing grows dim with the distance. Remnants of the old clinging onto the sounds of Iwaizumi letting it go unnoticed.

The sound of Iwaizumi shutting his bedroom door is like the chime of cymbals. The squeak of the old, rusty hinges he’s been meaning to tell the landlord about sound eerie as he pushes the heavy door behind his back. The lock clicks into place and the sound of it rings for a second until silence falls back over the apartment.

Iwaizumi leans his back against the wood of the door and he thumps his head against it. Eyes shutting, he tries to decipher the soft noises outside his room.

The heavy breathe being released loud enough to slip through the cracks of Iwaizumi’s door.

The clink of glass followed but the sound of running water.

The sound of feet shuffling around the living room. 

The telltale sign of a jacket being put on and the familiar creaks of the front door opening and, after a pregnant pause, being closed.

Iwaizumi feels himself slide down and onto the floor – his head hanging heavily between his legs as he tries to calm the racing of his heart. This was going to get better. They’ll find each other someday.

They always have.

They’ll be able to figure this out someday.

It’ll be different the next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao how late am i. 5 months is definitely better than the year i've been away from a certain other fic and this fic actually has a chapter count. I'm finishing up my last final today and graduation is on saturday so expect the last chapter sometime before i start summer school in june.
> 
> until then, feel free to leave comments and questions or just plain yell at me. most people got the idea and know where the fic is going with these two but i hope the ending is surprising enough for everybody so stay tuned. it'll be way shorter than this 3k mess but yeah. i hope you all like it. i accept all and any headcanons for this au as well as ideas for future fics 
> 
> blue neighborhood is still my shit btw
> 
> follow my tumblr and message me there if ya wanna


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiny chapter with an inconclusive ending for an inconclusive Iwa-chan

News outlets are running the story practically 24/7. There isn’t a single way to get around every media space spewing out conspiracy theories and explanations of the unknown.

Even the office is full of loose pieces of information and rogue articles about what supposedly happened but somehow nobody has yet to figure out its reasoning.

It vaguely resembled the sparse news articles and “documentaries” from a childhood long passed.

The world revolved around an occurrence that seemed so small in the grandeur of things but crushingly overwhelming as Iwaizumi forced himself to walk through the doors of his work with the weight of knowing that he’d never have to deal with Oikawa again.

He’d never have to listen to Oikawa’s nonsense grumblings about touring and studio days.

None of Oikawa’s problems were his anymore. It was like the past few years seemed insignificant to this small blip.

It really didn’t matter anymore.

Iwaizumi could figure this out now.

Everything would change. Everything will change.

Oikawa leaving was going to help him and Iwaizumi felt the ache in his chest for days lost but he was, in a way, glad.

He could mourn his losses in peace.

 

* * *

 

 

Rumors, coming mostly from the other end of the office floor where Bokuto and Kuroo congregated over the watercooler, spread heavily over where Oikawa had gone off to. Conspiracy theories were what those two were known for in both the office and in their writing and Iwaizumi couldn’t seem to escape it.

Theories that Oikawa had gone off to a remote island. A therapist’s in-home office. A safe house to escape the crazies.

Iwaizumi had heard very little of what was really happening and although nearly everyone knew of Iwaizumi’s connections to his childhood friend, the atmosphere around the man must’ve been harsh enough to turn them away. He knew there was a consistent scowl across his face ever since that last day he’d seen Oikawa months ago.

He couldn’t help it. The after-taste still resonated in the corners of his mind.

Iwaizumi tried to forget.

They hadn’t contacted each other in those months after and with the sudden disappearance and surprise to the media, even Iwaizumi felt a sting in his chest that he couldn’t explain.

And the result of that was the semi-permanent scowl on his face that turned away people as cheery as shrimp- Hinata and Bokuto.

It’d only been months after all.

Far too soon for what Iwaizumi knew was years of hurt and scum building in his veins.

He hoped – begged to the heavens – that wherever Oikawa was he was changing. Learning or recuperating or whatever it was that he needed to do for himself and no one else.

Oikawa had hurt him but Iwaizumi could never wish ill on someone that had once meant the world to his child’s mind. They’d grown up and around each other. Oikawa was his best friend and Iwaizumi wanted to Oikawa to be happy.

But now wasn’t his time to worry.

Instead he shook his head and tuned out the loud words and accusations from across the room – refusing to listen to the theories. Oikawa would find his way but what was most important was himself.

Iwaizumi would find his path and tread it carefully away from wherever Oikawa was headed.

They’ll go their separate ways and they’ll learn to become okay with it.

It’ll take time but Iwaizumi will be prepared to withstand the pain.

He might have lost an important part of his old life but all he could do to make up for it was to look towards what’s to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tis the end of this sad fic. i hoped you liked reading it as much as i loved /not/ projecting sad things i've read/experienced/heard. this fic was definitely an amalgamation of many things. sorry if the ending seems sorta jaded. i never wanted the conclusion to be a full 2-5k deal and writing it as an incomplete section of writing kinda fitted to my iwa-chan at this point in the story. 
> 
> i don't plan on continuing this fic and it's going in my completed list (finally!!) but i love me some au ideas. 
> 
> I just graduated uni and as real life scares the shit out of me i was thinking about starting up commissions to keep me busy but i also suck at writing so nm lmao we'll see
> 
> also i'm rarely on now but [i have a tumblr](http://mamaarachne.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S BEEN MONTHS SINCE I'VE WRITTEN SOMETHING THAT'S LONGER THAN 200 WORDS
> 
> I hope you liked the first chapter. I am so rusty at putting words down so I really hope this wasn't too bad. Also this is my first work that's not SNK related and I'm just so surprised at myself from deviating it feels amazing. I just really needed to write for myself and I guess posting my fics was a thing I used to do so I figured why not this one too
> 
> Please do the kudos and bookmarks thing. Comment and let me know what you guys think and if you have any theories. If you think I missed out on tagging something then let me know. Also if you're an old reader of my fics then please for the love of god tell me I haven't lost my chops. 
> 
> also [i have a tumblr](http://mamaarachne.tumblr.com/) so bother me a lot for the next chapter


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